Halved
by bloody-splat-on-the-floor
Summary: i shook all the clear, distant memories in my head into a blur. i can't allow this. i won't. what he did, what he's doing: i can't allow it to get to me like this. i'll protect what's left of my Flock even if i'd have to face the one i loved the most."
1. Flight

**A/N: here it is! My second fic! The title is pretty weird/stupid, I know, but I couldn't think of anything better for this fic—you'll know later (as in REALLY later—LOL). I also had a lot of help from a really good friend of mine—just to give her credit XD.**

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**\\-bLudySplATonThuhFlo0r-/**

**Max POV**

You'd think that after two weeks—two straight weeks of having to run across the continent, fighting for our lives and hiding to save them, I could spend just _one_ day sleeping in. _One_ day where I could just spend a few extra hours blissfully ignorant of what was happening around me. _One _day where my overwhelming paranoia would just stop butting its way into my sanity, which, by the way, is probably on the brink of disappearing altogether.

Is it really too much to ask for a break once in a while?

I mean, _sheesh_, we spend our days trying to save the world and we can't even have one weekend off?

_A superhero's work is never done_.

Oh, will you shut up, Jeb, or whoever you are. Don't give me any of that "crime doesn't take a break" crap. I'm fourteen, not even an adult, and you expect me and my Flock to live our life trying to save your ass while you sit there drinking hot cups of cocoa in your warm fuzzy beds?

_It's your responsibility, Max. You were given extraordinary powers, and you have a duty to use them to the best of your abilities._

I didn't exactly sign up for this, I grunted in my head.

_Nobody signs up for it. It falls upon them._

"It looks like Max is having another argument with her Voice thing again," said Nudge, yawning as she fished a candy bar from inside her backpack.

Yeah, about the _ninth _argument with my head in the past five and a half hours. Somehow everything loves butting into my life, you know?

Beside me, I felt Fang nod stiffly. His eyes were trained to the sky, as if he was expecting some mutant bird freak to come swooping in and steal all our carefully made smores.

Oh, the bitter irony.

"Where's the nearest place to get food?" Nudge asked, staring forlornly at her last bar of chocolate. This was the way we lived for the past four years: scavenging for food, stealing only when we had to. The only time we went out to actually _buy_ food was when the Voice in my head had given me my own credit card.

Come to think of it, we could still probably use it. But then we weren't near enough any kind of civilization that had technology, so that option's pretty much crap right now.

"We'll go get some food later, okay, sweetie?" I said, trying to sound convincing. I knew we wouldn't have the time to stop and buy food. We would have to leave this place before any Flyboys and/or Erasers could catch our scent or track us. It wouldn't matter; we've survived far worse than low supplies.

I heard a small whimper beside me: Nudge had gotten up and was sitting between me and Fang. She threw an arm around me and buried her face in my shoulder.

"I don't want to run anymore, Max," she sniffled, hugging me tight. I hugged her back, wishing on all the stars I could see that sweet little Nudge would get her wish.

It shouldn't be this way. Nudge shouldn't have to be running from anything. She was still a kid, no matter how many Erasers she could kick to next Monday. She was supposed to have a life; a real home with a real family. She shouldn't have to have nightmares about the deranged mutants and mad scientists trying to kill her. She shouldn't sleep with one eye open just to make sure her arms and legs weren't being chained up. Heck, she shouldn't even have _wings _to begin with! She was a little girl, and she deserved a little girl's life.

_I'm sorry, Max, _the Voice said. _This is the way things are, the way things are meant to be. This is the life you have; the only one you can live. Wishing on stars won't make it all go away. _

"I'm sorry, Nudge." And I really meant it.

"Don't worry," said a voice from beside me. Before I knew it, Fang had thrown his arms around the pair of us. "Soon, you won't have to run anymore."

I must have been so surprised of him actually showing visible representations of emotion that I completely forgot I was holding Nudge. My hold on her slackened, but she clung on to me like static. I glanced at Fang,

"How can you possibly know that?" Nudge whispered, her voice muffled by my sweater.

Fang smiled, one of the few things that could make my stomach flip. "I just do."

While he stroked her hair, trying to comfort her, Fang had a very un-Fang like expression on his face. I knew him well enough to know all of his faces, including his I-just-did-something-you-might-not-want-to-know-about face and I-have-a-huge-gaping-hole-in-me face, but this one I was finding hard to identify.

I guess he was just reacting to all the drama. Fang's a very…impassive person, Mr. Strong and Silent. So is Nudge, most of the time, when she stopped talking long enough for her to actually take in some emotion. We've been through so much that it if we cried for every single bad thing in our life, we'd probably die of dehydration.

So yeah, I mean, he's sweet and all, but I just might suspect brainwash or possible cloning if he keeps on going with this. That's twice in a week now, the other time being when Total started weeping about losing his fur and that being mutants make you age faster.

Not that I'm complaining or anything, it's just that he's _Fang._ Mr. Tall, Dark and Handso—Mysterious. Emo-Boy, as one of his blog-readers appropriately put. It'll just be all weird if he starts pouring his heart out.

After a few moments of staring at the top of Fang's head, I realized that Nudge had stopped crying. She was staring at me, much like I had been staring at Emo-Boy, except with a slightly different expression. More of curious than freaked out.

"What?" I asked. No, I hadn't been staring at Fang. No sirree. I was…staring at the fire. Yeah, that was it, staring at the fire. That was believable. Fire is interesting. And you never know when it suddenly defies nature and blows up in our faces, right? Can't help being paranoid over the fact that everything around us could kill us, right? Right?

Nudge giggled. "Nothing. Never mind." She wiped her tears on her sleeve and flashed me a grin. "I'm sorry I'm so…emotional. Oh my gosh, I'm becoming one of those weepy emo people you see on the Spanish soap operas you can't understand a word of."

"It's okay, sweetie," I said—you know, before she continued talking—tucking strands of hair back behind her ear. "It's okay to get emotional sometimes. I'd have thought you were an android-cyber-whatever if you didn't show the least bit of emotion sometime. Hey, you're just an eleven year old girl with wings who occasionally gets attacked: that seems like something someone can get depressed about." Nudge laughed, and I smiled. "Just cheer up!" I finished, giving Nudge a little tickle.

"Okay Max," she said, laughing and laughing. "I get it! I get it!"

I laughed and smiled at her. "Good girl," I teased. "Now go check our smores. I have a feeling something—or _someone_—is gonna attack 'em."

Nudge giggled and nodded, scurrying over to the fire. I watched as she carefully reached out for the nearest stick, wincing slightly when she felt its heat. I smiled solemnly and laid back, resting my head on the tree behind me. I closed my eyes and gave a sigh.

"Max?"

I can't even get a _minute _of sleep, now can I?

I opened my eyes, alert. Iggy stared at me for a second before continuing, "There's this—this group…approaching," he said unsurely. "I'm not sure if they're Erasers or Flyboys or just plain people, but there are tons of them." His eyes narrowed briefly. "I think we should go."

I pondered over this. A large group heading into the forest, possibly for us, possibly just to us. If Iggy wasn't sure, then they were pretty far away—and that they were either bringing elephants with them or stomping on the ground for Iggy to have sensed them.

"Alright," I decided. "I'll do a short area sweep. We're still not sure they could fly or anything, so I'm not taking any chances. Just prepare our stuff and tone down the bonfire, just to make sure."

He nodded, swallowing. I glanced over at Fang, only to see his eyes gently shut and his breathing even. Huh. He was asleep. Indistinctly, I noticed the small shadows beneath his eyes. I remembered him offering to take more shifts than necessary, not waking Iggy and I up when we were supposed to switch. I guess it was catching up to him. And I couldn't help but feel sorry. He really loves the Flock, working overtime, protecting everybody…

"Hey Ig," I whispered. "You're in charge until I get back, ok?"

He nodded, closing his eyes and concentrating. For some people, I guess, it would be rather unnerving to ask someone to stay in charge and only have them agree by technically falling asleep, but with Iggy, it'd mean he was serious. For him, it wouldn't be much a difference whether or not his eyes were closed—I guess to prevent dirt or something to get in, but why would he care?—but him serious means that the nearest squirrel that threatens to steal our smores would most likely know what it feels like to fly, if you catch my drift.

Also, he knew how much Fang needed his sleep, and by hell would Iggy know that _**I **_knew that. We owed Fang that, in the least.

I took one last glance at my two best friends and, with a short running start, unfurled my wings and took off.

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**Max POV**

Sleep, I needed—and wanted.

But flying?

I _lived _for it.

There was nothing better than soaring through the night, tearing through the wind, and basking in the moonlight. For a second, I thought I could just stay there, free and in control.

For a second, I really _did _feel like a superhero.

Actually, more like the "super" part only.

The "hero" part? Not so much.

I mean, come on! The world relying on a fourteen-year-old-mutant? That's sinking into an all-time low. If the world can't save itself, then it's the world's fault! I don't think blaming a fourteen-year-old who was _supposed _to save the world's butt was gonna help, either. And NO, I am not _taking matters into my own hands_ or any of that stuff. All I want is for us—the Flock—to have food from the kitchen—not from the dumpster; to smile 'cause we're just plain happy together—not because we successfully knuckle-sandwiched an Eraser out of the sky…

…to be normal, just 'cause we're _supposed_ to be.

Living with my mom, Ella and my mom's chocolate-chip cookies seemed like the closest thing to normal for me—for us. I've been thinking of just flying off to them and living with them. As one big happy family. We could even go to school, to normal places, and do normal stuff.

But what was normal if you knew you had wings?

But it's all just a single second, right? Not much change there.

I've actually been expecting the Voice to speak up during that rant-like speech. But somehow, all I heard was the owls' hoots the birds' melody, the crickets' serenade and the distant hum of engines down below—

—wait…engines?

I looked down, squinting my eyes. Below, far off in the distance and right in front of forest borders, was a huge sea of black and gray. A few parts were shining white and silver, but I still couldn't identify what they were.

All I knew is that they were trouble.

I tried to get closer, but I knew that less a distance means faster a catch—if ever. I gave up the sight seeing and quickly turned, pouring all my speed into flying back to the Flock. I searched—overhead—for the bonfire deep within the forest, taking more time since Iggy had lessened the fire. In about twenty minutes, though, I had found them.

But I had given the sea of black behind me more time to find us.

I gritted my teeth and tucked in my wings, dive-bombing halfway into the forest. In a matter of seconds, I had landed in our campsite, alerting everyone of our unanticipated departure.

That was when I actually did a 360.

Angel was zipping total and Celeste into her bag…

Nudge was grabbing the last of the smores—generously sharing them with the others…

Iggy and Gazzy were packing their bags…

Fang was…

"Where's Fang?" I demanded, looking around frantically.

"Hey!" Gazzy said. "All his stuff's gone!"

"He was here just a minute ago…" Angel said, her brows furrowed.

Fang was missing.

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**Max POV**

"Craaaap," I muttered, flustered.

Fang was missing darn it! Where could he have gone?? He was sleeping when I left them, and Iggy was concentrated on any—if all—vibrations while Angel could pretty much read his mind if he had plans! How could he have suddenly disappeared?

"Dammit," I muttered, turning to Iggy. "Iggy, get everyone prepared when I get back. I'm gonna look for Fang."

He nodded without hesitation as I quickly took off into the forest, keeping my eyes wide open for any enemies, bears, and most importantly: Fang.

He could have just decided to have a walk, I thought to myself. Or he needed to go to the little Fang's room or something.

But…with all his stuff?

I shook my head, focusing on finding him. I'll have him explain later. All I've got to do now is just find him. Find him before any danger comes.

That's when I saw it: a shadow, swiftly weaving through the trees. It couldn't have been just an animal—too big for a bird, too small for a bear.

Fang.

That was jumping to conclusions, I thought. It _could _have been a hunter, poacher or some normal human. I shouldn't do that. Jump into conclusions, I mean. But it _could _be Fang, after all. I mean, who could have such smooth movements, such _grace_, even in a rush?

I knew his movements all too well. I've watched him enough, I've been with him long enough, to know that _that _was Fang.

Uh…n-not that I stare at him or anything. It's just—he's my best friend. He's part of our family, and I _always _watch over them. My family, I mean. I'm just protective, you know. As a friend and leader. So don't blame me for knowing how Fang moves and everything!

_Concentrate._

I flinched, surprised at the Voice's sudden one-worded monologue, but _more surprised _to actually admit that the Voice is right. Ranting my head off wouldn't help me with _anything_ at all. Arguing with myself is even _worse_. I have to concentrate on Fang, finding him and getting the hell outta here _with him_.

I tore through the trees, bushes, logs, and everything in my way, following the shadow's path. I didn't care if I'd get scratched up or anything. All I really cared about right now is Fang.

Thoughts about his missing stuff, the spot where I remember him sleep, and just plain thoughts of him filled my head. So much emotions ran through me. Suspicions, disbelief, dread, just about everything I shouldn't be feeling and/or thinking of right now. I followed his shadow with no hesitations, but I wasn't shouting his name. I wasn't calling him to come back.

I wasn't stopping him.

I wasn't hesitating on the outside, but inside, everything in me stopped. I wasn't shouting my head off for a reason. A reason I had no idea of, but was stopping me anyway.

I gulped, shaking my head.

No way was I losing him.

I poured all my strength into running, jumping over logs and fallen trees, dodging trees, going right through bushes, following the shadow. The shadow in the darkness.

Fang.

_Watch out_.

Before I knew it, a blinding light stopped me in my tracks, causing me to stumble forward, dropping me on all fours. I blinked numerous times, trying to adjust to the light, only now realizing that I was panting pretty heavily, and that I had this huge cut on my right arm—a few others in my legs and arms. I looked up, checking if I'd lost him.

My eyes widened.

Oh, I didn't lose him. Not at all. He was there, almost right in front of me, his back facing me, in the middle of this clearing/meadow, directly in the middle of the moon's light. The moon, which, by the way, was directly on top of the clearing/meadow we were in, emphasizing his black ensemble.

"Fang…" I breathed.

Suddenly, as though surprised, he spun around so sharply to face me, making me flinch. I immediately jumped to my feet, wincing when I felt one cut sting.

"Max?" he stated, calm. "What are you doing here?"

"Actually," I started. "_You _are coming with me back to the campsite."

He blinked at me, looking bored.

"A group of people or whatever are headed our way," I explained. "We weren't sure whether they're humans or enemies—"

"—Everyone's an enemy, Max…" Fang interrupted, his eyes devoid of any emotion.

"Fang, what's happening?" I asked, getting straight to the point. "Why do you have all your stuff with you?"

"Isn't it obvious?" he said matter-of-factly.

"What," I said, feeling my face heat up in anger. "Are you—are you _leaving_?"

He winced at the bitterness in my voice, but quickly hid it away, shielding his face with a mask of impassiveness.

"You are…aren't you," I couldn't even bring myself to make it sound like a question.

"Why, Fang," I said, trying to keep my voice steady.

"I can't tell you," he said simply.

"Right," I said, choking out a bitter laugh. "That's because you're _not _leaving, Fang. You're _not_. I _won't _let you leave a _second _time."

He turned to me full on, his expression unreadable. I bit my lip, turning my attention to my feet.

"You really want to fight me, Max?"

My head shot up in surprise and anger, and only now did I notice that my jaw was set tight, my fists were clenched, and my arms were trembling in fury. I was trying to fight back the urge to run over to him and slam my fist down the back of his head or poke him really, really hard.

I looked at him, only to find that he had a smirk playing across his lips, his expression amused.

Did he really think that I was weak? Did he think that he could beat me?

Rage washed through me, and all I could think of was how mad I was at him. How long it will take for the sea of black to reach us. How much I was going to take before completely snapping.

"Bye, Max."

Not much, apparently.

"Fang _**don't you dare**_—"

My eyes fluttered shut as light streamed into my eyes. For a split second, Fang and I stood staring at each other, and I felt myself get caught in his deep eyes. I noticed a glint in his eyes—something that looked remotely like sadness…pain…

That's when I realized: it wasn't_ just _a glint.

It was moist.

Then a deafening roar rang through the whole forest.

And then several things happened at once.

I saw dozens of Flyboys zoom past us overhead, and in the distance, I saw Gazzy and Iggy swoop into the air, ready to meet them.

I heard Angel's scream, ringing through the forest, and Nudge's shouts, for Angel and the others.

I felt Fang's arms slide around my waist, pulling me closer, my chin being lifted up to meet his gaze. And I definitely, _definitely_ felt his lips press against mine.

It was all kind of hard to miss.

Before I knew what was happening, a jolt of electricity shot through my body, effectively shutting down my brain. Vaguely, I took notice of the hand that had entangled itself in my hair. My arms were not, as I fully expected them to be, folded across my chest in extreme anger, but had wrapped themselves around his neck.

Definitely not where I left them.

Somewhere in the hazy background, I could here a pretty big fight. Oddly enough, I didn't care very much right now, not with Fang making my mind explode. But even from here, I could hear something exploding, something that was very probably Gazzy's doing. And then there was that distinct sound of a tree being launched up, skyward, most likely. I could smell gunpowder hanging in the air. And somewhere in all that chaos, Nudge and Iggy were sending Flyboys shooting across the sky.

Just how every girl dreams of their first kiss.

Isn't everything just so romantic?

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**A/N: there you go! 1****st**** chapter! Hope you liked it! Again, thanks to my best friend for helping me out!**

**Anyways, R&R! Thanks for reading!**


	2. Fall

**A/N: second chapter everyone! Hope you guys like it! anyways, I'm really busy so I'll say everything now…**

**Thanks for the feedback guys! I really appreciate it!**

**Anyways, please review on the second chapter. Not the same amount of effort as the last chapter was put in because I was working with half a decent-enough brain XD. Again, R&R!**

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**-Max POV-**

_Before I knew what was happening, a jolt of electricity shot through my body, effectively shutting down my brain. Vaguely, I took notice of the hand that had entangled itself in my hair. My arms were not, as I fully expected them to be, folded across my chest in extreme anger, but had wrapped themselves around his neck. _

_Definitely not where I left them._

_Somewhere in the hazy background, I could here a pretty big fight. Oddly enough, I didn't care very much right now, not with Fang making my mind explode. But even from here, I could hear something exploding, something that was very probably Gazzy's doing. And then there was that distinct sound of a tree being launched up, skyward, most likely. I could smell gunpowder hanging in the air. And somewhere in all that chaos, Nudge and Iggy were sending Flyboys shooting across the sky._

_Just how every girl dreams of their first kiss. _

_Isn't everything just so romantic?_

I could hear my Flock beating up—or being beaten up by—a bunch of Flyboys. You know, normally, by now, all that scrap metal would have had their butts kicked across the country, but with Fang doing what he was doing, I was finding it hard to care. I mean, the Flock was highly trained in combat, and THIS happens around once every blue moon. They get their daily dose of movie-level battles, but its not like THIS happens everyday.

_Don't worry, Max, they're going to be fine. The Flyboys aren't going to hurt them. _

SHUT UP.

It took a few moments before I realized that Fang had pulled away. My eyes were closed and my arms were hanging loosely at my sides. For some reason, there was a buzz in my head, and my chest felt like it was about to explode.

The thing is, when my brain went dysfunctional, I kind of lost a few of my more important cognitive functions. Like, um, you know, the ability to _breath_.

As I forced air into my oxygen-deprived lungs, I tried to comprehend what had just happened.

Flyboys came.

The Flock was attacked.

Oh yeah, and Fang _kissed me_.

I'd say it _wasn't _a normal weekend.

For _me_, I mean.

_Open your eyes, Max. _

Whaaat?

_Open them, Max, OPEN._

I blinked, trying to adjust my eyes to the rising sun's light.

And there they were, right in front of me: seven Flyboys, ready to kill—yet again, when _weren't _they?—and yet they weren't moving—not a single inch.

Oh great.

I blinked again.

Yeah, no, they were still there, the bloodlust in their eyes a little too obvious. This was apparently not a hallucination induced by lack of oxygen. As the sense started to return to my brain, my heart started beating again. They had me surrounded. This was _not _good.

"Hello, Max," a voice said from behind me. A voice that was hauntingly familiar.

I turned around at the sound of my name. I stood there for a moment, _staring_.

I just _had _to blink.

This could _not _be real.

Right in front of my eyes, an Eraser morphed back into human form. Her (yes, _her_) inky black hair, glinting at the sunlight; her eyes almost identical to mine, yet somehow so incredibly inhuman; her mouth, twisted into a bitter smile; and her expression, disgusting hate and loathing, a pure mask of evil, an entity of malevolence…

It was like looking at a mirror.

Only not as…FUGLY.

"Why hello," I did a dramatic pause, scrutinizing uhh…_it's _appearance. "Fugly."

My—fugly—twin flinched, but recovered almost immediately. "First of all," she spoke, amused. "I think you'd find that you're looking at _yourself_."

"An evil, maniacal version of myself," I retorted. "Not to mention FUGLY."

I looked around at the many Flyboys behind me. "Why are you here?" I snapped at them—but mostly at my FUGLY self.

FUGLY me smiled. "I'm here to stop you."

"Stop me from doing what, FUGLY?" I practically yelled.

FUGLY me glared at something over my shoulder. "To stop you from stopping _**him**_."

My brows furrowed, I whipped around, trying to see what she was glaring daggers at.

And then I saw him.

Fang.

His back was turned to me, his backpack draped over his shoulder, and his wings free, unfurled behind his back, ready for flight.

"FANG!" I screamed as loud as I could.

He looked back, just once. Even from far away, I could see pain in his eyes, and something else that I couldn't quite understand. Something like _pleading_. It was the same look he gave me when he left with Iggy and Gazzy. When he had split up the Flock. But that was because of Ari. Back then, that was because he didn't have a choice. But _now_, he was walking away from me—from us.

And I didn't know if he was coming back.

With one last, fleeting look, he launched himself into the air, not even sparing time to execute a running start.

This is not happening again.

Before anyone could stop me, I landed a blow to FUGLY me's chest, effectively knocking the breath out of her, and threw myself into the air, pouring all my strength into flying. On the ground, Fang could outrun me, no doubt, but in the air, I was a freaking _superhero_.

It only took a few seconds.

I caught Fang by the arm and yanked. HARD.

"_What do you think you're doing?!_" I screeched, my hold on him deadly.

He blinked at me, his face completely expressionless.

"It's better this way, Max."

"Better HOW?!" I screamed. "You leaving us helping HOW?!"

If his bones weren't as strong as steel, I'd have crushed his arm already. I wouldn't allow him to escape my grasp again. He wasn't breaking us apart. I wouldn't let him.

"Trust me, Max. Just trust me."

"You did this before, Fang," I said, venom coating my every word. "Don't you forget. I'm not gonna let you tear the Flock apart again."

"It's better to be torn apart than to bleed for the rest of your life."

"What the hell does that mean?!" I cried, my grip on him tightening.

He blinked at me and glanced at my hand—the one stopping him. For a split second, his eyes widened, and in one instant, his hand, nothing but a blur, shot to my wrist and gripped it tight. I winced, gasping, trying to wrench my way out of his vice grip. It felt like he was on the verge of snapping off my hand, it felt like he was really, seriously going to leave.

It felt like he was really, seriously going to hurt me.

It was only now that I noticed that Fang's eyes were screwed shut. He was obviously in pain, his face tortured with misery. He gulped in several deep breaths and almost _forced _his hand away from mine, almost as if it suddenly caught fire or something. He opened his eyes and stared at me, his eyes pleading even more.

"It's better this way," he said again.

It sounded more like he was trying to convince himself.

For the second time today, he wrapped his arms around me. "I'm sorry, Max…" he whispered in my ear.

As I tried to push him away, anger flooding my eyes, I felt a prickle in the back of my neck. All of a sudden, I felt the world begin to spin. Before the blackness started to creep in, I heard Fang utter two of the worst possible words I would have ever dreamed of hearing:

"Goodbye, Max."

And then I was falling.

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**-Iggy POV-**

I hate these flashes of sight.

I have nothing against seeing—having gone through most of life without it—but then when you have twenty-twenty vision one moment, then you're blind as a bat the next, you tend to get a bit _dizzy _everyonce in a while.

It's really great, you know? Being able to see. For most—if not all—of you guys out there, it might not be that big a deal, but for me, being able to see, even for a moment, is something a blind mutant would get worked up about, in the least, right?

If only I don't get worked up just to get blinded all over again.

Recently, I've only actually been _seeing_ whatever's most dominant. And that's mostly the sky. (Unless, like back in Antarctica, _everything _was just _one _color—white, for example). But the annoying part was whenever something—something like a bird in the all-blue sky suddenly flies by, and poof! I'm blind. It takes a few seconds before the thing gets out of my line of 'sight' and my 'temporary' vision returns. So, yeah, that's one sight flash for 'ya.

And by hell is it annoying.

"REPORT!" I yelled, much like Max does every time we have a battle, rubbing my temples in frustration.

From down below, I heard Nudge moan, "Nothing wrong here! Except a broken finger!"

"I'm okay!" yelled Angel.

"So am I!" yipped Total from under a rock.

"I'm fine!" Gazzy hollered, coughing up smoke. "But I think my leg was on fire a moment ago…"

"Has Max and Fang come back yet?" I asked.

"Not yet!" Nudge called back. "But I thought I saw Max fly past a minute ago, but I'm not sure if it was a Flyboy or something…"

"How could you confuse Max for a hideous Flyboy??" Gazzy asked, bewildered.

"Hey Angel?" I asked. "The sky's _orange_ right now, right?"

"Yeah!" Angel replied. "Very very orange!"

She stopped abruptly.

Then she screamed.

In the distance, I saw a face, obscured by strands of blonde hair and big brown wings.

Then I was blind again.

But it didn't matter.

Because I knew who it was.

As if Angel read my mind—or she really did—she screamed, "IGGY! MAX AT TWO O'CLOCK!"

I zoomed in the direction Angel had pointed out, and right before I knew I was about to hit land, something heavy fell into my arms. It took me a few powerful downstrokes to stay in the air, and almost instantly, I heard the Flock rushing towards us.

I gave the Flock a look that meant we'd take it down in solid land. In my arms, Max was mumbling incoherently. Her face was troubled, and she kept shifting around, turning her head from side to side and mumbling every time. It seemed as though she couldn't stay unconscious _correctly_, and it would mean she was fighting back unconsciousness—and that she might just wiggle her way out of my grasp.

Also, she was _heavy_.

"Oh my gosh, what happened to Max?" Nudge exclaimed when we had reached the ground.

I could tell the rest of the Flock was pretty freaked out. Max was _Max_ and she _never _went down. Not without a fairly big fight, at least. And she looked like she'd just tripped over a log, in the least.

"Angel," I whispered, turning my head to her.

I felt Angel's head bob up and down in a nod and her hair whipping around in Max's direction—turning to concentrate, most likely. We waited for a few moments before Angel let out a short whimper, whispering, only for me to hear: "Oh no…"

I felt the air shift as Nudge and Gazzy, both on either of my sides, turned in Angel's direction.

I felt Angel's tiny shoulder brush past mine, upward, indicating that she had stood up. I could hear her silent footsteps slowly fading away. I could hear her walking away from us, walking slowly, trembling…

I could hear her on the verge of tears…

Nudge hurried over to Angel, stomping on the ground a little hardly.

"Angel's crying…" Gazzy explained, barely a whisper.

That must be why Gazzy wasn't over there comforting his little sister. He absolutely _hated_ tears and would rather jump into a volcano than actually cry—an absolute sign of weakness, an aversion to being strong…

…a really girly thing to do.

Abruptly, the weight on my lap disappeared. Max's head shot up so rapidly, she nearly fell back down—blood circulation and all—and I had to hold onto her to stop her from doing so. She was panting pretty deeply, and her forehead was covered in sweat. I felt her body slowly heaving in deep breaths as my hands, firmly on her back, tried to calm her by tracing small circles around it—just the way she liked it.

I waited until her breathing evened out, blocking out her mumbling (but not missing the part about hearing her say…uh…"FUGLY"), focused on keeping her calm, relaxed. It was not everyday Max just goes down like that, and I didn't really have much experience in dealing with this kind of situation. All I knew was that Max had something important to explain. One, for example, being why she had lost consciousness back there.

"Iggy…" she wheezed, making me flinch in surprise. Her voice was unlike any I've heard her use before. I mean, I've heard her sad and everything, but not _this _miserable. Not _this _depressed.

Not _this _furious either.

"Iggy…" she said again.

I twitched, feeling a tiny droplet of water plop down on my hand, almost directly below Max's face.

A tear…?

"Iggy, Fang's gone..."

* * *

**\\-bLudySplATonThuhFlo0r-/**


	3. Fear

****

A/N: this is probably longer than the longest ever chapter I've ever typed down (in "If Anything Goes Wrong, Kill Me"), and I've had a bit of help too. hAzypUrplE helped, and there was A LOT of effort put into this one XD

**Anyways, thanks for all the great reviews (45!! XD XP)**

**Read on!**

* * *

**\\-bLudySplATonThuhFlo0r-/**

**-Max POV-**

Life sucks.

It's been sucky before, yeah, but now it's going too far into suckiness. We have, in the past few years, endured combat in a daily basis, attacks that would've killed Jackie Chan, half a lifetime being semi-human guinea pigs and the rest of the time running for our lives.

Oh, and we have _wings_.

Did I forget to mention that?

For some reason, a million additional bones jutting out of my back seemed vaguely irrelevant—to the fact that I was a fourteen-year-old Hawkgirl on the run.

Oh, and did I mention my family of super-mutant-bird-kids?

For the past few years, we've had a great time together, really, but the sucky part of life probably kicked in by now. I mean, even if we've had a hundred battles or so, gotten more broken bones and lost blood packs than a hospital, and spat at death more times than that guy who got electrocuted forty-seven times, it was only now that we've actually crossed over to the Emo side (The Dark Side).

And seeing everyone's miserable, bloodstained faces was breaking my heart.

Even worse was the fact that I couldn't do anything to wipe it off their faces. Instead, _they _were the ones trying to comfort me. _They _were the ones holding back their tears, frowns, and about everything that my face had written all over. _They _were the ones sucking it up, _just _to help me.

_They _were doing what _I _was supposed to be doing right now.

"Max, please…j-just tell us what happened," Nudge said, trembling with sadness. "Max..Max don't cry…"

And I realized that to be one of her shortest sentences.

In the distance, through my blurry eyes, I could see Gazzy, his side facing us, but his head turned away. His weight was shifted to his left leg—his right having been burned to a huge degree. From far away, I could see his jaw clenched, his hands balled into tight fists, and his arms trembling. He was fighting to be strong. Fighting for me. For us. To not show weakness. Emotion.

Just like F—

Tears welled up in my eyes again, and I averted my attention from the kids, shaking my head and blinking them back. I couldn't even bring myself to say _his _name. Even _half a syllable_ hit me. And it hit me hard. But I can't show that to them. The Flock. They look up to me, and they can't look up to some crybaby weakling. No way. That'd bring them straight back to the School, for sure. If I'd cry like this for some stupid reason, there's no chance we'll ever survive.

But this isn't a stupid reason. _Nothing _was stupid about it. I only knew half of what happened, and that particular half was what hit me hardest. I couldn't stop him. I didn't. He left and it was all my fault. I wasn't strong enough. Everything was my stupid fault. I was weak.

"Max? Max, it's okay. It's not your fault…" Angel, my little Angel whispered to me, rubbing my back smoothly. "Please, please get up…"

My heart throbbed at her pleading. Her big blue eyes were glistening with tears, but she didn't let one drop. Her arms were trembling and her lower lip was shaking. I couldn't bear seeing her so _hurt_. She was suppressing all her emotions, trying to be strong. It was as though we're expecting so much, and she's only _six_, for crying out loud!

I stood up shakily, not looking any one of them in the eye. I tried to keep my voice from wavering, tried to keep it in check, tried to make it sound confident. They needed this. They needed me. And their leader slowly breaking apart is not what they needed.

"I—" I started, shaking my head. "I-I'm just—I'm just gonna take a walk or…or fly for a bit, okay?"

I shook my head again and turned, not waiting for an answer. I covered my eyes with my arm and did a running start. I had to get away for a while. Away from the ground. Away from them.

I shook my head again and swiped my arm away from my face, stopping my run for a split second before snapping my wings out and shooting off to the sky, full-speed. I gained altitude faster than ever, and no longer was I cruising in the sky.

It was only now that I noticed how bright the sky was, how clear it had become since the latest fight with the Flyboys, how perfect it seemed at this very moment.

How much I hated it right now.

All it did was remind me. Tell me of my mistake. My fault. What I couldn't do, and what I hesitated on. The sky used to be my safe haven. _Our _safe haven. Where we were free, together. But now all it did was mock me. It spat right at me all the times we've had in it, and was telling me of the times we _won't _have in it. Without him.

Without Fang.

I shook my head again, feeling a traitorous tear slide down my cheek. I felt my forehead wrinkle in anger and self-disgust. I hated myself when I was weak. I hated it when I just gave up.

But I'm not. I'm not giving up. I'm gonna bring Fang back, no matter what. I know it's not in my place to do it. But I know, I just _know_, that he needed us.

And I needed him.

Even if Fang himself had left; had been the one to snap open his majestic wings and fly away; grab my hand and tighten his grip on it more than I could; wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me to him, pressing his cool lips against mine; speaking to me two last words…

I will still get him back.

…

I shook my head again, a twisted, defeated smile on my face.

I guess it's gonna take more than just a few speeches to convince myself.

* * *

**\\-bLudySplATonThuhFlo0r-/**

**-Fang POV-**

_If someone said that I was angry, I'd laugh. _

_It'd be an understatement. A total lie. I wasn't angry, oh no, I was __**furious**__. __**Enraged**__. Beyond that, even. Flyboys had even moved away from me after seeing my face, and if I wasn't sure enough that robots couldn't show emotion, then I would've thought they were terrified. _

"_Let's get out of here," I said, venom dripping my every word. _

_The robots flinched. _

"_Who the hell do you think you are, bossing us around?!"_

_I stopped in my tracks, closing my eyes, trying to control myself. _

"_Are you gonna answer me or are you too chicken?! I guess you __**are **__chicken. You do, after all, have those stupid wings. Just like stupid little Max."_

_I spun around abruptly, grabbing her neck and slamming her back to the tree behind her. She gasped, her hands shooting up and grabbing mine, trying to pry my hand off her neck. No longer was she out of breath, therefore out of strength, one hand dropping limply at her side, her other barely even able to keep itself on my wrist. One eye was shut tight in a wince, and her forehead was already glistening with sweat. Her feet were at least a foot from the ground—and counting—and I could see the blood draining off her face, easy. _

_I glared at her, and she flinched, trying to avert her gaze from me_. "_**Another word,**_" _I started, venom dripping my every word. _"_**And you'll regret even **_**breathing**."

_My grip on her neck tightened for a second. She let out a whimper, wheezing out a gasp. _

_Then I threw her aside, just like trash._

_Words like that coming out of someone with Max's face is meant to be treated like trash, anyway._

I blinked, suddenly aware of what I was doing. Light streamed into my eyes, but I wasn't bothered. All I saw was Max's clone, on all fours, coughing roughly with a hand placed around her neck, where, barely seen through her fingers, I saw angry red marks all around.

"Did I…" I said, looking at my hands, seeing burn-like marks on it, blood dripping from the sides.

"Yeah…you did."

I blinked again, staring at Max II. She shakily stood up, brushing dust off the corner of her mouth with the back of her hand. She glared at me, but her gaze softened. "Damn, I _hate _being a freaking test subject…" she muttered under her breath, her lips moving to rapidly I thought I wouldn't have heard it.

"Let's just get outta here," she said, wheezing the words out in gasps, her hand still on her neck. "Won't take long for them to get back here."

I felt another pang. I resisted the urge to just fly back, run away, just return to them. But I knew, I couldn't. And I _wouldn't_. This was their only chance at freedom. I won't let personal issues get in the way of their lives. They were meant to have normal lives, do normal stuff, and stop running from bloodthirsty robot-wolf-people. They were meant to be safe, away from danger and not always look behind their shoulders every five seconds.

They were supposed to be away from me.

I was a danger to them, and the longer I'd have stayed, the faster they'd have been hurt.

Or _killed_.

* * *

**\\-bLudySplATonThuhFlo0r-/**

**-Max POV-**

After what seemed like hours of flying around—flying away—I finally stopped to rest on a steep cliff bordering the shoreline. By then, the sun was dipping into the horizon, casting its orangey glow on everything in sight. I sat myself on the very edge of the cliff, swinging my legs over and tucking my wings in.

I was exhausted; I hadn't stopped flying since I left camp. I had been wandering aimlessly around, trying to make sense of what just happened. I just needed a little time on my own; or at least, that was what I was trying to tell myself.

I knew why I went. Even though I was in no condition to go flying out by myself. And now, more than ever, the Flock needed me. I'd learned my lesson. I can't leave them to fend for themselves on their own.

_That's more than I could say for Fang, _I growled in my head.

I wrapped my arms around my knees, watching the sun sink slowly into the sea. That was why I came here; at the edge of the earth. Where sun, sea and sky met; where the land ended, where the road stopped.

I just…I had to try. I had to try to get away from it all; I couldn't take it anymore. Maybe I thought that if I got far away enough, everything would just disappear.

But I knew that I had to pull myself together. The Flock needed me, the whole me.

I know that won't happen, though. Not for a long time. I didn't feel whole anymore. When Fang left, he took a big part of me, a big part of _us_. We won't be whole until he comes back, and who knows when that will happen?

It all just happened so fast. I never even got a chance to stop him. To tell him that we needed him. I know he knows it, he knows it more than anyone else, but he never even stopped to think of the fact that maybe I needed him too; that maybe, just maybe, he was the one holding me together, when I was on the verge of falling apart.

I bit my lip hard, fighting back tears that threatened to spill.

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a sliver of movement. A shadow strolled along the beach, hands in his pockets. I didn't recognize his face, if he was even a he. It was harder to tell from a distance. His face was hidden in the shadow of his hood, and for a moment I tensed up, before forcing myself to relax. Something in the back of my head told me this wasn't someone who was going to attempt to kill me in the next few minutes.

_Ignore it,_ I told myself. It was probably just some random college student, out to look at the waves before curfew. There's always one at this hour. Teenagers with cars think they were free to go anywhere they wanted to go. At least he was spending his probably unearned freedom here, instead of in bars or in gambling houses like the rest of the teenage population seem to be doing.

I grunted in my head. Life was a real pain sometimes.

Normally, I would've jumped into action by now, or at least told the Flock to make a run for it, but this time I didn't. I didn't have the energy or the motivation for it. The Flock wasn't here, anyhow; it was just me, and if the creep over there tries to do anything, I'll have him out cold in less than a second. I had it handled.

I really _have_ to learn how to keep this paranoia in check. Which, you know, is harder than it really looks. Like all things that involve some form of control, it's not really that easy to learn. Having been on the run with two teenage boys and three children, all of whom are freaky bird kids, you tend to learn the way of the outlaw. You get all crazy, convinced that everyone's out to get you, and then you spend your life living in trees or in underground subways.

Sometimes, it comes to a point where paranoia rules your life. You sleep with one eye open, ready to kick any butt that tries to attack you and your Flock while your defenses are down. You suspect that the pink-faced mother pushing a baby carriage down the cereal aisle is actually planning to abduct you and do nasty experiments on you with things you thought were way beyond your imagination. And, of course, you stoop to shoveling food out of garbage cans, in fear of the cameras that may or may not catch a glimpse of your hidden wings when you attempt to shoplift a six-pack of sodas from your local mini-mart..

It hasn't been an easy life.

Though, I must admit, paranoia has saved our lives a couple dozen times. But trying to stop it from overtaking your sanity is like trying to stop yourself from falling into your own personal loony bin.

I took another perfunctory glance at the stranger roaming the shoreline. The boy in question sat himself down, near where the waves crashed mercilessly into the sand, and leaned back to enjoy the sunset.

For a moment, I let my eyes close. Nothing would ever, ever be the same after this.

I looked over to where the sun's reflection was shining yellow, the exact double of the one beginning to disappear, rippled by the waves the gently rocked the ocean. I was suddenly reminded of Max—I mean clone me—and realized with a sharp pang of pain that she was probably where Fang was right now. I gritted my teeth, feeling my jaw harden. Didn't he realize what he'd done?

Through my tear-coated eyelashes, I saw the boy down below me take off his jacket, shaking his strawberry blond hair out of his hood. At first, I didn't take the feathery, yellowed wings sticking out his back, but then it was kind of hard not to notice.

I managed to stifle my gasp with the back of my hand.

What was he doing here?

* * *

**\\-bLudySplATonThuhFlo0r-/**

**-Iggy POV-**

This has been a very, very long day.. For all of us, not least of all for Max.

She's probably been hit the hardest in all of this. I've never seen her this beaten up, this close to tears. It's just so hard to believe. Max had always been the strongest, out of all of us. She was always the one pulling us together. But now she was the one that needed our help.

I listened to the crash of the waves against the shore. It was relaxing, a nice change to the squawk of the birds we happened to be nesting with, or the rusty creak of the aged metal in the subways. Yes, we've been through the worst of situations, and we've survived plenty. But this one was a lot harder to get through.

I never imagined Fang would ever try split the group up again. It happened once before, and it was painful enough back then. I guess we still have each other, we were still somewhat complete, but we can't be completely complete without every single one of us. Fang knows it, and so does Max, but this doesn't make it hurt any less than it already does.

Over the loud surf foaming on the sand, I heard a sharp sort of _whoosh_ from somewhere behind me. A small thud, too soft to be heard, told me that she landed solidly on the balls of her feet. With three, swift steps she closed the distance between us and sat herself down beside me.

We sat in silence for a few minutes, just enjoying the sound of the sea and the salty smell of the air. I found myself playing with stray locks of her hair, twisting the silky blonde strands between my fingers. As the waves began to lap at our feet, I heard her voice ring through the silence.

"How did you find me?"

I heard the pain in her voice. It rang through her every word. I found her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze; Fang was going to get his butt kicked for what he's doing to her.

"I didn't have to look very far. I know you, Max."

She shifted uncomfortably in her place before speaking again. "I'm sorry I left. I know you guys have had a hard day."

I turned my head in her direction and felt my face soften. "Nobody's had a harder day than you, Max." When I felt her face whip around in confusion, I added, "Don't expect to get anything past Angel. She told us everything."

My fingers gently brushed across her face, wiping away the drying tear tracks staining her cheeks. I caught a lock of her hair flying in the breeze and tucked it behind her ear. Faintly, I heard her sniffle, probably trying to hold back the tears she refused to shed. She was always so brave, always trying not to let us see that she was falling apart.

"You don't have to run, you know. We're there for you. We'll always be there for you. You'll get through it. You're Max, you always do."

Instinctively, I put my arms around her and pulled her closer. Her tall, crumpled frame was trembling with dry sobs. This wasn't the Max I knew; Fang leaving had had a more intense effect in her than I've ever seen.

As she fought to keep her tears at bay, I heard her choke out, "I don't think I can do this, Ig. It's just too hard."

Without thinking about it, my hand reached up to stroke her hair as I rocked her back and forth, trying to calm her with the rhythm of the waves. "Max, he's going to come back. You know he will. He won't do that if he didn't have a good reason. He loves you, and it kills him to see you hurt. He won't do this to you; he knows what will happen to you if he does."

The sobs subsided as the truth of my words finally hit home. She clung to me, her fingers snaking around my arm, her chest still heaving from her effort to stop crying. As she gulped in deep breaths of salty sea air, I planted a kiss on her head, my arms still wrapped protectively around her.

"Iggy?" Max called, her voice suddenly panicky. I felt a prickle spread up my arm as her fingers tightened their hold on me, and her nails dug into my skin..

"What? Are we under fire?"

Naturally, having almost no eyesight can be a sort of difficulty in times like these. I sprang to my feet, trying to hear any sign of incoming attack.

"No, no, no," Max whimpered, shaking her head. Tears fell thick from her lashes onto my hand as she dragged me back down to the sand. "I just…I…"

"What is it?" I took note of the worry in my voice. This was the part I hated about being blind. People were much easier to read when you could see their facial expressions.

"Iggy, you won't…you won't leave me too, will you? I don't think I'll be able to take it if anybody else…"

After a second, I felt her face tilt up to look at me.

"No," I said. "No, I'll never, ever leave you, Max."

I couldn't see her, but I knew Max was smiling. She leaned her head against my shoulder, and for one, fleeting second, I caught a glimpse of the satisfied smile on her face. For one, fleeting second, I feel like maybe there was still a tiny chance I could still patch her up.

I heard the promise in my voice, and I wished on the stars I knew were twinkling above me that I didn't do anything to break it.

"Don't worry. I'm not going anywhere."

* * *

**\\-bLudySplATonThuhFlo0r-/**

**-Fang POV-**

It's hard not to think of this as a nightmare. I mean, _come on_. I was in a jet, with shackles around my wrist, surrounded by dozens of Flyboys, and an Eraser that looks exactly like Max. Add to the fact that we were heading back to Death Valley.

Come on, you can't say that this isn't a nightmare.

"Diamond-coated alloy? I can break these, you know," I said to Max II a little innocently, staring at the shackles binding me to this chair—which, if I may point out, is starting to feel like an electric chair.

"I know you can," said Max II from beside me. "But you won't."

I gave her a really, _really _dirty look, making her smirk. "You know what will happen if you don't cooperate," she reminded me. "And you don't want that to happen again."

It wasn't a question. She knew I had no choice. I couldn't risk the Flock being hurt again. I could bear this.

I could _also _break _out _of this. But she didn't know that. And I wasn't planning on telling her. Instead, I contented myself to another dark look.

The plane jolted forward, sending most of its unshackled occupants tumbling into the chairs in front of them. Max II clung hard to my arm to prevent herself from falling off her seat. In one spiraling moment, it all hit me. I was helpless. I was trapped. And I wasn't in control of my life anymore—much less my _mind_.

There was something bubbling in the pit of my stomach. It wasn't fear. I wasn't really that afraid. But I was _angry. _

So very angry.

It was only now that I noticed the space my wrist suddenly had. I looked down at my right hand and found that the diamond-coated alloy had been reduced to a small pile of scrap metal on the floor.

I could feel something burning inside me, something in the back of my head started to pound, like it was trying to break open my skull. My hands were curling around the armrest, forming finger-sized dents in the metal.

Max II put a warning hand on my wrist, trying to wrench it off. At the sound of ominous creaking, the several Flyboys surrounding us turned in my direction, snarling. The ones nearest me stood up and started growling menacingly, sounding as though the noise was coming out of speakers. Before the others could react, Max II gripped my arm and shouted, "NO!"

I wasn't sure if she meant me or the Flyboys, but I ignored it anyway. I concentrated on the massive strength building up in my fingertips. Before the armrest completely got off, I heard Max II speak again.

"Fang, _don't_," she said, her tone softer than before.

I froze, forcing my eyes open. Max II sat beside me, her expression angry, her hand still resting on my arm. For a split second, I was back in the air with Max angrily hacking my arm away, her face still exactly the same. I forced myself to look into Max II's eyes. I knew Max—the original Max—so well that there was no mistaking the angry glint in her eye or the tone of voice she used when she was _furious_. Somewhere in the back of my mind, the part where my head was being cracked open, I told myself that this wasn't Max. This wasn't the Max I knew. This was just a copy. A copy of the Max I left behind.

And yet they were exactly the same.

It was hard to tell the difference. If I had my eyes closed, I could've sworn it was the real Max squeezing my arm, trying to stop me from going.

I shut my eyes and focused on Max's—my Max's—face. Images flashed across my mind's eye before I found the right one: the one that always cheers me up when the days were dark and the nights were just unbearable.

It was a memory of the Flock, reveling in our newfound freedom. We'd just escaped from the School then, and we were happy to finally be able to stretch our wings and fly. I could remember ten-year-old Max, carrying little Angel in her arms, looking beaten up but relieved as the wind rushed beneath her wings and barreled her upward.

Even after, what, four or five years with them, I have _never, ever _seen them that happy. Not again. That was probably the single moment in time where we weren't worrying about getting caught or being killed or having our wings discovered and posted all over the Internet. All we had been thinking about was that finally, after years of being caged like animals, we were free.

_That's why I need to calm down, _I told myself. I can't let my overwhelming anger just wash over my common sense and logic. I owe that much to the Flock. If a little self-sacrifice on my part can give them a better life, then so be it. If that's what it took.

I opened my eyes to Max—no, clone Max—and breathed in deep.

"I'm good."

She gave me a satisfied nod and turned to the many Flyboys gathered around my seat, ready to pounce. "You heard him," she thundered, with unmistakable authority, "he's fine. Now go back to your places. You have your orders."

They grunted their displeasure and stalked back to their seats, clearly disappointed a fight hadn't broken out.

I looked down to my hands and gently peeled them off of what used to be my armrest. Now, it just sort of looks like a twisted-beyond-repair metal pipe you found deep inside a garbage mountain. Not that I was complaining, because now the Max look-alike has nothing to chain me to.

Two seconds later, I realized that I had spoken two seconds too soon.

"Since you're very clearly still volatile," Max II said, pulling something shiny and clanking from behind her, "I'm afraid I'm going to have to personally see to your...safety."

To my complete surprise, she slid her wrist into one of the cuffs and snapped the other one around mine, a familiarly irritated look flashing on her face. This was obviously part of her orders, but that didn't make the task any less unbearable.

Her face contorted into something remotely like frustration, and then flickered into forced self-control, finally rearranging itself into eerie calmness.

That wasn't one of the _real _Max's best abilities.

"Um," I said, looking pointedly at the flimsy chain linking us together, and then at the twisted, supposedly unbreakable piece of diamond coated alloy sitting uselessly in front of us. "I can still break this, you know."

"Yes, I know," she said, leaning back into her chair.

"I think, after you showed me how exactly to turn a perfectly functional armrest into scrap metal, I pretty much know how strong you are. But you won't do it again."

I could hear the poorly veiled threat under the icy tone.

Seeing my eyes narrow, Max II pulled out something else from her bag of tricks.

Something that looked very painful.

"What's that for?"

She pulled the protective cap off of the needle and jabbed the syringe painfully into my arm. A cold, dead feeling was spreading from the point of contact; I could already feel my fingers starting to numb.

"Just a little bit of sedative, to keep you under check for the rest of the trip."

Taking note of the muscle jumping convulsively in my jaw, she added "You better calm down before it takes effect. If you're angry and you get knocked out with something like this, it could damage your nerves a bit."

Max II leaned forward and flashed me a smile, the way hunters smiled at their prey the second before they shoot them with a dart rifle. "And we need you in perfect condition, don't we?"

I gritted my teeth and tried to focus.

_Breathe, Fang. Just breathe._

"Wherever you are, Max," I growled under my breath, as the sedative started creeping its way into my consciousness, "I hope you're happy."

* * *

**\\-bLudySplATonThuhFlo0r-/**

**-Max POV-**

Despite what the rest of the Flock may think...

I am NOT happy.

Very, very far from it.

Okay, maybe the flock might've noticed it a little.

Fine, fine, they noticed a lot.

But it wasn't exactly hard to figure out.

I mean, Fang left.

Right after kissing me.

The Flock is gravely wounded, and is barely able to walk, let alone fly across the continent to look for Fang.

And guess what?

Right when I thought life couldn't possibly get any worse...

It rains. It freaking RAINS.

While we were midair, may I point out.

So now we are soaked to the bone, bruised, bloody and burnt, with no food, no shelter, and a Flock member who has possibly turned against us.

And people say they actually WANT wings.

Let me tell you, it hasn't exactly made life a picnic on the beach.

"Ma-ax, do we have any more rat?" Angel whimpered.

I flinched. Not only did Angel use the words: _'do we have any'_ and _'more rat'_ in the same sentence, but she actually _pleaded_ for the darn rodent.

I heard a faint voice answering before realizing that it was actually me. "Yeah, I think there's some more in the bag…"

She must've seen my face because she answered in a small voice, "Oh…ok."

I shook my head for the how-many-eth time now—and god knows how much brain cells I've lost so far—mentally kicking myself for not thinking straight. My voice was even distant to _me_, and since the rain, there was nothing to replace my depression but anger.

Which it did.

Even though we found some sort of peace in the rain, even though the Flock had let loose their tears, hidden in the rain's drops, and silently cry, we were pretty close to getting a rhino virus thing by now. And a sick, sniffling, flying Flock was _not _what we needed.

Yeah, and nearly getting struck by a lightning bolt that miraculously had no thunder following it was pretty much every reason for me to get pissed off at—much less the fact that some of my navigating feathers was burned and my whole left shoulder was temporarily paralyzed.

Oh, even _worse _was the fact that Iggy had to catch me and _carry _me to the nearest possible drop-off.

Everything was just too hard to comprehend right now.

"Come on, Max, the trout's ready," called Gazzy, offering me a charred piece of...something.

Normally, I wouldn't put in my mouth anything handed to me by Gazzy, (or at least, anything blackened and looked somewhat inedible), but I was starving and depressed. Now was not the time to get picky about culinary options.

I warily pinched off a bit of...trout?...and threw it into my waiting mouth, instantly spitting it back out.

"Gazzy," I moaned, wiping my mouth on the sleeve of my jacket, "you didn't use gunpowder to start the fire again, did you?"

When Gazzy turned to face me, his face was bright red. "Um…Angel was getting a cold. I had to do _something_."

"Save it for someone who actually believes you, big bro," Angel said, gnawing off a stick of something I didn't even want to ask about. "Oh, and yes, Max, he did."

Gazzy scowled at his sister and threw his share of trout into the fire, making the flames flare up.

I tossed my gunpowdered chunk of fish at Gazzy and held my hands in front of the fire. It stopped raining, but now the wind started to howl like Total does when he stubs his paw on a rock. Instead of wet, it was friggin' freezing.

"Come on, Max, you have to eat _something_," Iggy said, pinching off a bit off his and dangling it in front of me. "You're gonna starve, and then we're going to have to drag you across the country, famished and depressed, while we look for Fang. Come on, we're strong, but we can't handle that much deadweight."

Pushing his hand away, I leaned against Iggy and rubbed my arms, pulling my jacket as close to my body as it could take.

"Here," he said, shrugging off his jacket and draping it over my shoulders. "You need it more than I do."

"Ig, you're the most sickness prone bird-kid this world has ever seen."

Seeing one of his eyebrows shoot up, I added, "Well, maybe after Gazzy. You two hang around so many unstable chemicals I'm surprised you haven't caught Ebola or something."

"You get that from monkeys."

"What's your point?"

Iggy laughed and wrapped an arm around me. "Well, you feel much worse than I do. I say you need warmth in your life much more than I need my jacket."

I looked up at Iggy and scowled. "I don't think depression has anything to do with being cold."

"We don't want to find out the hard way. Now just sit still, you're getting our good blanket dirty."

I was going to ask how he could've possibly seen that, but my voice died in my throat before I managed to get the words out. Knowing that it was useless to try and continue this argument, since Iggy always manages to somehow get around my reasoning skills with annoying logic (the same technique Fang uses to get under my skin), I sighed in defeat and leaned against his shoulder. He pulled me closer to him and cradled my head in his arms.

"If you're not going to eat, then at least try to get some rest. Tomorrow's going to be a long day, and we sure as heck will be needing our Max up and running."

His hand hovered over my eyes, making them flutter shut.

As his hand lay protectively on my shoulder, I gave up my fight for consciousness, hoping that when I wake up, this would all turn out to be a dream, and Fang was still with us, and life could go back to normal.

…

…

Yeah..right.

* * *

**\\-bLudySplATonThuhFlo0r-/**

**-Fang POV-**

"Fang?"

My eyes were still shut, but I didn't have to open my eyes to know who it was.

Only trouble was, you never knew which one it was, the real one or the clone.

"Fang? Wake up."

But that voice…I knew that voice. I knew it so, very well. But did I really know Max well enough to tell her voice apart from her reflection?

"Fang! Drag your butt out of that chair and get _up_!"

You see? That was something Max would've said. But I didn't know her clone, so that may as well have been what clone Max would say. It's all giving me a headache.

I knew I had to open my eyes, to see whether this Max had blonde or black hair (the only possible way of telling them apart), but I didn't want to.

Some part of me—a fairly dominant part of me—was afraid of what I was about to see. I'd rather live in confusion, with the possibility that this could be an illusion, than open my eyes and see living proof that my nightmare had actually been a reality.

"Fang, if you don't get up in one second, I swear I will—"

"I'm up, I'm up," I moaned, lifting myself from my chair. Something hard and metal around my wrist made me stagger forward, banging my head on the ceiling.

I felt a dark look cloud my face as I was forced to open my eyes. It front of me was a flash of black, looking very happy with the state of pain she'd put me in.

Oh, dammit.

And here I was, thinking that all might just have been a dream.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

"Let's go," Max II growled, pulling me by the handcuffed wrist down a flight of stairs. When the sharp pain pulsing in my forehead had faded a little, I noticed the echoing silence we were leaving behind.

No Flyboys, then. Either they were shut down for the day, or thrown off the jet while I was unconscious. That was good. It'll be easier for me to escape if I needed to. Max II was the only thing standing in the way of my freedom.

_No,_ my rational, thankfully dominant side yelled out. _You know what you have to do._

"Let's just get this over with," I said, earning myself another slap in the back of the head.

"Cooperate," Max II said, grounding out every syllable.

As soon as I felt my feet touch land, I gagged on a cloud of sand swirling in the air around me. It took me a few seconds to get breathing right, and by that time, Max II was already walking away, so I had no choice but to follow.

Yes, I could have just snapped the handcuff right off my wrist and tried to fly away (that _is_ what wings are generally for), but I couldn't. I didn't have the choice. This was something I had to do, and if I had to have a few bumps on the head to get what I want, then fine.

"Where are we?" I asked, shielding my eyes from flying sand as another breeze flew into us.

"Open your eyes if you want to see."

The sand under my feet was starting to shift, and if I kept my eyes closed, I would probably just trip and find myself eating sand again, so might as well.

We had landed in the desert, smack dab in the middle of nowhere. Why we were here, I wasn't particularly sure. Surely they wouldn't kidnap me just so they could kill me someplace where nobody would ever find me. It's just illogical for them.

Behind me, four Flyboys were practically gawking at me as if, very surprised, I wasn't spontaneously combusting in front of them. Beside me, Max II's hand was twitching, as if she'd like nothing better to do than to strangle me right here and now, where nobody could hear my agonized screaming.

Maybe I could drive her over the edge just enough…it was easy enough for me, what with years of experience from Original Max. A few sarcastic comments, a bit of whining, and she'd be reassigned in no time.

Even if they put me up with someone scarier (yeah, right), at least I wouldn't have to spend the remainder of my…self-imposed exile looking at Max's face. I don't think I can even _think_ of Max without having to remember what I'd done to her, and what I was doing for them now.

"Why are we here?" I mumbled, voicing the thought in my head. I tried to open my mouth as little as possible, so as not to accidentally swallow the buckets of sand swirling around us.

"Just shut up and wait, alright?" Max-clone mumbled, trying to see through all of the dust surrounding us. "They'll be here in a few minutes. Now just keep your trap shut and stand there like a good little—"

"I know, I get it."

She threw me a dirty look and pulled out a pair of binoculars.

While she peeked through the lenses, trying (and absolutely failing) to find whatever it was that was to take me to my doom, I scrutinized her face, trying to find the miniscule details that differentiated her from Max. Original Max, I mean.

Her face was exactly, _exactly_ the same as Max. Any one of our Flock would've known Max enough to say that. Without the hair, it would be impossible to tell them apart.

I suppose there was something different about the way she held herself—Max walked with a kind of confidence, along with an underlying insecurity, that this new Max just couldn't pull off.

There was something in her eyes when she looked at me, though I suppose that could just be the hatred that was much more intense that Max's.

As if it was a different person, I heard myself talk. "Hey, why'd you dye your hair?"

Max-clone turned to me, a bit startled by the question that disturbed the silence. "What?"

"Why'd you turn your hair black? I thought you'd want to look as much like…Max…as possible. Wouldn't that be a sort of advantage on your part the next time you try to ambush us from the inside?"

I could almost hear the gears whirring inside her head as she tried to form a response that wouldn't reveal too much. After a few moments of slightly awkward silence, I heard her speak again.

"I…I was sick of being called Max. Or Max II. Well…yeah."

The tone of her voice surprised me. She was actually _telling_ me.

Clone Max glanced at me, clearly annoyed at how I was able to wrench the truth out of her without any apparent effort. Her eyes stared at nothing in particular as she got lost in thought.

"I'm a person too, you know. I'm not just a carbon copy of somebody else. I'm human, at least as human as Max is. I can think for myself, I can decide what to do." Her face became defiant. "Everybody else treats me like I'm just cardboard cutout of Max."

She caught a lock of her hair that was fluttering in the breeze and held it to her face. "I made it black so that everyone could see that I wasn't Max. That I was somebody else. That I was an actual person, with an actual mind, and an actual heart."

All of a sudden, a feral growl formed somewhere in her throat. Max II turned to me, her eyes narrowed, glinting with suspicion. She's obviously never let any of this out before. If anything, she'd retained the original Max's instinctive sense of secrecy. "Why do you care so much anyway? You hate me."

It wasn't a question. It was more of a statement.

"Curious, is all," I said, shrugging. "Besides, if I'm gonna spend who-knows-how long with you, might as well get to know you better before I get tortured to death."

"Why?" she grunted, venom in her words. "You know her so well, and I'm already exactly like her. What _else _is there to know?"

I smacked her head. "Dude, no matter how I, or anyone, for that matter, would look at it:_** you're not Max.**_"

"Well then if I'm not Max, who do you think I am?" she asked, averting her attention from me with a sad frown. There was a hint of bitterness in her voice. She looked up at me with an odd expression I couldn't quite make out, and slowly shook her head.

Sighing, Max II let the binoculars hang down her neck. Her hand curled briefly around my shackled wrist, and she squeezed her eyes shut before breathing out, "Listen, Fang, I d—"

She froze, her head whipping reflexively around. She'd heard it too. The sound was too far away for normal human ears to pick up, but then again, neither of us was human. Not completely.

"Choppers," I murmured, looking up at the bleak sky. I couldn't see anything in this sandstorm; all I could hear was the wind howling and the steady thwip of the rotors as two jet black helicopters landed with a muffled thud on the sand in front of us.

"Who—?"

Judging by Max II's confused and frustrated look, and the fact that Flyboys had all of a sudden surrounded us whilst cocking guns and tranquilizers while aiming at our faces, I'd say this was bad.

"What the heck?!" Max II said, her brows furrowed in aggravation.

Add to the fact that I was chained to someone who looks exactly like Max, who, without actually _noticing_, took on a fighting stance while eyeing every Flyboy.

"Hey, where's the key?" I asked, positioning myself behind Max II's back, covering all openings.

"What?"

"_Where is the key_?" I repeated.

Max II snorted. "One of the Flyboys took it. I'm not sure which one, but I'm betting on the one at eight o'clock, southwest you." She ground her boots on the sand, making herself a firm footing. "Either it's in one of it's pockets or the friggin' scrap metal ate it."

Oh, this is _really bad_.

* * *

**\\-bLudySplATonThuhFlo0r-/**

**-Author's Note-**

**Sorry, had to end it there XP hoped you liked it tho', I've started the next chapter, but I'm not sure if it'll be long XP my other fic's next chapter will be long, and I'm sure of it, so **_**that**_** might take a while XP anywho, R&R, thanks for reading!**


	4. Fact

\\-bLudySplATonThuhFlo0r-/

**\\-bLudySplATonThuhFlo0r-/**

**-Max POV-**

* * *

"Max? Max, it's time to get up…"

I groaned, shifting to the right. I brought my forearm over my eyes, twisting to the right a bit more. I felt little tingles when I moved, and I knew I was gonna hit something. Something hard, inanimate, most likely. I'd know if whatever I'd hit would be alive. I've certainly had enough experiences to tell.

I could've stopped, slowed down just the tiniest bit to lessen impact, or just twist the other way, but I was practically asleep. Reactions, reflexes, and all the other Rs were technically on hold. Not 'till after two minutes or less, but _still_ on hold for a bunch more seconds.

Yet instead of what could have most likely been—what should have been, considering the current state of things—rock, metal, or bark scraping at my fingertips and tearing through my nails (exaggeration, I know) was a soft kind of feeling, almost like an actual pillow—and believe me, that's a _huge _step up the mutant lifestyle.

But then the pillowy sensation gently wrapped itself around my fingers. It took a few seconds to get the gears on my head whirring enough to realize that my hand collided with, well, a hand. Especially since I definitely felt fingers smoothly curving down the middle of each of mine from the back of my hand.

I felt my mouth curving up into a small smile, and I had no clue why. It felt real good, but I was supposed to be _awake,_ darn it!

I shifted to the right again, this time limiting my movements, making sure not to get too close to whatever I was supposed to hit. I felt the hand wrapped around mine loosen its grip, brushing against my the back of my hand. Slowly, I felt a strand of hair sweep up behind my ear. Tingles swept through my skin, and I shuddered faintly at the gentle touch.

I figured that I should've _at least _opened my eyes, but mumbling "five more minutes" was being highly considered. I really needed the sleep. And I guess I've _deserved_ it. I deserve even _more _than just five minutes. But I never take any of that into consideration, now, do I? I deserve a lot of things, when you think about it. I deserved a safe home with my family—we all did—and yet here I was, sharing a cave with a couple of bats. Life hardly considered justice when dealing with six—five, I reminded myself with a gut wrenching groan—freaky bird kids on the run.

Whatever I deserve—like winning the lottery—can wait as long as forever. There are more people I care about and love that deserve what they deserve as soon as they can get it. My own selfish needs and everything I should have had since I was _born _shouldn't get in the way of anything, especially my family.

"Come on, Max, wake up.."

"I'm awake, I'm awake…" I mumbled, rubbing my eyes.

I heard a small chuckle from above me, and I felt another strand of hair being brushed back behind my ear. I stifled another possibly embarrassing shudder and opened my eyes slowly, twisting the opposite direction to get my back correctly on the ground. No matter how many times I've slept on solid, uncomfortable _stuff_, I never seemed to get used to the aches and numbness that came packaged with the deal. It proves that sleeping solidly on your back is possibly the best position to lie on _anything. _Now I'm really starting to understand why the patients at hospitals are stuck like that.

"Mornin', _sleeping beauty_," Iggy said, looking down at me.

_**Sleeping beauty?**_

I blinked, trying to get my eyes to adjust to the light. For soaking us to the bone and nearly killing me last night, the sky was pretty cheery as of late. The darn place never ceases to amaze. At the worst of situations, the worst of times, and the worst of moods, it comes out bright blue and pretty. Exact opposite. It felt like it was mocking us. Blaming us. Blaming me. It used to be _our _sky. Our safe haven. But know all it did was rub it in our faces. _My _face.

"You know what," Iggy continued, wearing a smile unlike any I've seen on him before. "That was probably the best sleep you've ever had."

"Huh?" Sure, it was longer than usual. And sure, I was on absolutely no watch last night—which I was supposed to be—but the best sleep I've ever had? I honestly don't know.

"Well, the whole night you were just plain asleep," Iggy answered. "No mumbling, no shifting and moving so much, and you had the most peaceful face on."

"…wow…" was all I came up. Now that he mentioned it, though, I pretty much slept, then woke up. No dreams. At least, not that I know of. "Really?"

"Yeah," Iggy replied. "Weird, huh? Specially with what's happenin'…"

I suddenly heard a slightly loud thump from somewhere in the limited distance. I groggily got up from Iggy's lap and—wait a minute. Iggy's _**lap**_?! How the hell did I end up—

"Max?"

I blinked and looked around for the source of the voice, finding Nudge sleepily making her way towards us, luckily rubbing her drowsy eyes.

"Y-yeah, Nudge?" I asked, tucking in lose strands of my hair behind my ear. For some reason, I felt like my hair was one huge mess and had attracted bugs or something.

Nudge continued rubbing her eyes, only opening one _barely_ and saying, "I'm hungry…"

Figures.

"Oh, okay," I said. "I-Iggy?"

_Why the heck was I stuttering?_

He shrugged. "Bacon and eggs OK?"

Nudge nodded, "'Kay…"

Iggy gave a nod and stood up, briefly placing a hand on my shoulder before walking away. I watched him as he took out a small pack of raw bacon, moving gracefully over to the bonfire. He lit a fire with two rocks almost instantly, carefully and strategically making a small stand-and-pan for the bacon to cook. I couldn't help but stare at his face, gentle, smooth…

But sightless.

I gazed at his deep blue eyes: blank, empty, devoid of any emotion. The eyes told everything being concealed by a face, and I should know, but it really seemed like Iggy had no problem hiding it in. Not when there was anything he'd have to look at. All he had to do was master the annoying art of impassivity and I'd never be able to know what he's feeling.

Just like Fang had.

My chest throbbed again, and I nearly winced. My vision started getting blurry again, but I blinked it away. I leaned my back on the tree behind me, sighing.

In the blurry distance, I saw Nudge drowsily climbing back up to the cave, too sleepy to even fly up. I vaguely remembered that last night, after nearly getting killed by a freaking lightning bolt, eating something black and tasted indistinctly of gunpowder and spitting it back out, Iggy having to force me to sleep—without much effort, apparently—and Iggy taking a whole night's watch, technically getting sleep, but his senses still up and running on full throttle. I remember waking up in the middle of the night somehow, getting pelted by small, barely noticeable raindrops, while Iggy's head, hovering protectively over me, was soaked, yet his face was peaceful, more peaceful than I'm used to seeing him. I guess when we're supposed to rest, supposed to tone down a bit, to call it a night, we'd have some sort of tendency to just, for once, calm down and be at peace. Whether a dream or no, the look on Iggy's face was absolutely priceless, and I would give anything to see that look on him and the Flock for as long as they live. We deserved it. And I should know.

I blinked again, sighing. It felt like my head was being repeatedly banged against a brick wall. Not that I've felt an actual head-on collision with a brick wall, but I've gotten relatively close, if not over-the-top. But that's just me, you know? Over-the-top paranoid Max. No chance at survival without over-the-top-ness and paranoia. Nope. No way. It's just the annoying fact that I might actually be losing my grip on my own sanity. I mean, I've kept it at bay, if not perfectly fine—for me, that is—but it's like, since the time _he_ left, I've never actually been holding it together. At least, not by myself. It's literally as if Fang had been the one holding _me_ together, keeping _my_ sanity in check, _leading_ the Flock. He was too important to lose.

But he just went on and got lost anyway.

I wrapped my arms tightly around my knees, staring blankly to one side, not even bothering to shield my obvious misery. It's just like delving into peer pressure or something. But in this case, it's just diving into the state of depression we'd somehow put ourselves into. Right now, most probably, Iggy is the best at concealing what was supposed to be devastatingly obvious. It's probably because of his being blind; the fact that he has no one to look at—no one to _have _to look at—just because he knows it would be no use.

It was only now that I've realized, _fully _realized, what Iggy has been going through for so many years. Since losing his sight, he's lost nearly everything. When he ever calls someone, that person would never look back. Not in a literal sense, but in his blind eyes. Whatever he does, he won't know if maybe, just maybe, someone had turned to him and responded to his call. All he'd see was darkness. Whoever he turns to wouldn't consider Iggy's attention grabbed. The light in his eyes, the usual joy, fierceness, determination, was no more than a blank look. It was as if he was looking without looking. Only _supposedly _staring right at you. There was never anything else he'd seen but emptiness; nothing.

"Max, stop moping around and eat breakfast."

What the—?!

"I'm sorry—_what_?" I said, shaking my head.

For some unexplainable reason, my attention span shorted out. If it had been on full throttle—as usual—I would've accidentally smacked Iggy's face—which shot down to meet mine.

For some _other _unexplainable reason, blood was pouring _up_ my face. I could practically feel my cheeks going red, but I had no idea why.

"Max," Iggy said, raising an eyebrow at me, his tone serious.

His face was inches from mine. Most likely two, three inches, but who's counting? There was _still _the fact that his face was _that _close. Maybe even closer.

"F-_fine_, fine," I blabbered. "J-just—just don't get so close."

I poked a finger on his forehead and pushed his head backwards, hearing one of his cute laughs. He smiled at me and swiped away a few strands of hair from my face.

"Yep yep," Iggy said, grinning at me. "Make sure you keep standin' tall or I'll be all over your face."

Somehow, that didn't sound like such a bad idea.

"U-uh, yeah, whatever," I replied. "Like hell am I even letting _you_ go all over my face."

He smirked, laughing. "You'll never know, Max. You'll never know."

"I'm rolling my eyes, Ig," I said, chuckling.

"I know," he replied briefly, no more than an unclear mumble.

Whaa?

He stood up and dusted off his pants, holding out his hand in front of me. I almost cautiously took it, wondering to myself why he said he knew I was rolling my eyes. Apart from the bleariness, though, there was the fact that I was a bit, uh…woozy after Iggy had his face so freakin' close to mine, so I could've just imagined it, and either yet, it made my head a bit unorganized more than it really is. So, better yet wondering about that later.

Iggy helped me up and placed a reassuring hand on my shoulder, swiping his hand on the side of my head, making a few strands of hair fly forward and on my face. He held me by the forearm as I swayed on the spot, my legs not quite as awake as the rest of me. As soon as I was steady, he laughed and skidded off to one side, grabbing a few meals and unfurling his wings, making a gentle yet powerful takeoff to the cave opening not entirely far from the ground.

I saw Gazzy's small form come to the edge of the cave, eagerly shuffling forward to help Iggy balance a few of the meals. With the wafting aroma of fresh bacon, it wasn't very long before Nudge and Angel appeared out of nowhere, flashing their best little-kid smiles. Angel even went so far as to give him one of her cute and gentle hugs, trying not to bounce him off his perch as Iggy's one foot dangling precariously from the dent he was balancing on. Iggy had his wings partly opened, though, and it helped him maintain his balance when Nudge practically attacked him, her mouth all but a blur as the Nudge Channel turned on. Iggy rolled his blind eyes and swiftly cupped his hand around Nudge's mouth, effectively stopping Nudge's flow of seemingly unending words. Angel and Gazzy laughed, and Nudge, after thanking Iggy graciously for her plateful of delicious-looking grub, scooted over to a corner and basically breathed in her ostensibly luscious meal, hopefully careful enough not to choke on any of the food. The way she was wolfing down those eggs, caution was probably the last thing on her mind right now.

Now that I look at it, Iggy is too important to lose, too. Too important to be without. For all the things that happened to him, he's still got our backs. He helped us survive, brought smiles to our faces, and he didn't allow any one of us to get hurt. Iggy's my best friend too, and he's Fang's brother. I can't even _begin _to imagine what he's going through now that Fang had suddenly flown away. And I can't even know, not with his expressionless eyes.

In some twisted sort of way, Iggy was a lot like Fang. Too alike even, that it was hard to think about it. Fang always had this impassive face on, and Iggy's eyes never brought out much emotion either. The two boys hide too much. Significant things I should know about. But they always just go on and hide it from me. It always gets me annoyed and makes me worry. It drives my paranoia to the brink when they try to keep things from me. Whether it was a huge gaping hole or some misplaced emotions, they don't even let me know. Not when they think I'm not supposed to.

_Damn it, Fang, _I cursed him in my head, _you going away is making me __**think**__, and it's starting to drive me nuts!_

"I said _eat_, Max."

_And now I'm so out of control __**I'm **__the one being bossed around, darn it!_

I blinked and turned to see Iggy plopping down on the ground beside me. I was about to warn him about the huge pointy rock he was gonna ram into, but he quickly dodged to the right, sitting down on a safer patch of land, just as if he saw what he was about to land his butt on. Because of this, I really didn't realize how quickly he closed the distance between us, and even though his face was no longer in right in front of mine, it was still a little too close for comfort. My face immediately felt like it was heating up, the blood piling back around my face—as if my head needed more boiling already!

"H-hey!" I exclaimed, placing a finger on his forehead and pushing him back. "Not letting you, remember?"

He laughed again, shoving something into my hands. "Just eat, okay? This one's extra special, even more than the kids' meals, but don't tell, alright?"

"Extra special?" I looked down at the plate of food he handed me—well, not a plate, just one of those really clean, really flat shiny slabs of rock we found sometime ago on the edge of a river—and found scrambled eggs, bacon strips cooked to perfection, a small mound of what looked like garlic rice to me, cooked just the way I liked it, and an energy bar sitting mouth-wateringly to the side. In Iggy's hands were one of our technically stolen canteens, filled to the brim with fresh water.

"Oh my god," I breathed, staring wide-eyed at the sumptuous meal I was holding. "Oh god, Ig, thank you!" I threw my free arm around his neck, almost on my tiptoes because of his freakish height. He laughed and briefly hugged me back, pulling away almost reluctantly to let me sit down and eat.

"Good to see you happier," Iggy said, his head turned towards me, with an odd expression on his face as I enthusiastically munched on my breakfast. "And apparently loving the meal."

I gulped down a mouthful of scrambled eggs. "Am I chewing that loud?" I asked, heaving a spoonful of rice into my waiting mouth.

"Er, yeah, sort of," he replied, chuckling. He glanced at me and rolled his eyes. Before I knew it, he prodded a finger at the corner of my lips, wiping away a stray grain of rice and popping it into his mouth.

I don't know how red my face went, or how high the temperature in my face was, but I definitely felt myself stop my eating spree to stare at Iggy, who stared back as if he could see me, giving me this big, adorably goofy smile.

I rolled my eyes and got back to eating, stopping just to briefly mumble, "Thanks."

Iggy ruffled my hair. "No prob."

The underlying truth to that didn't apply. 'Cause for as long as we're practically fugitives, as long as we're on the road, as long as we have these wings on our backs..

..there's always a problem.

* * *

…

…

**\\-bLudySplATonThuhFlo0r-/**

**-Max POV-**

…

…

* * *

Maps suck.

Okay, wait, rephrase:

OUR map sucks.

If you'd call a soggy excuse for a piece of paper a map, I mean.

So maybe our backpacks weren't entirely waterproof. Or lightning-proof. Or any other proof that involves Mother Nature messing with the sky. There was still the fact that we have no navigational guides besides saliva-coated fingers—and dirt-coated tongues, if I may add. I'd spent about half an hour mulling over the grimy remains of what used to be a diagram of the United States.

Nudge and Angel were sitting in front of me, trying to piece up whatever was torn out. I didn't let them at first, of course, since they had just set up a net by the river. I didn't really know if paper bathed in water could get soggier than soggiest, but I didn't want to make matters worse. After drying up, though, I found it hard to refuse.

"Ooh, there's Oklahoma!" Nudge piped up. "It's such a weird name. Oklahoma. Haha. It's like the Oklahoma barbeque stuff the fat guy with the cowboy hat in WWE keeps talking about. I wonder if he's from Oklahoma. It seems like that. Or maybe their barbeque is his favorite or something. I bet it is. He's FAT. Let's try to go to Oklahoma. Can we, Max? I wanna try the Oklahoma barbeques. Like…a dozen. Or _two _dozens! Yeah! I wanna try TWO dozen Oklahoma barbeques! Can we, Max? Please? I like—"

By now, I've accumulated about two dozen bruises on my head due to recurring collisions with the nearest tree. I don't know how she just _can't stop talking_. Personally, if this girl goes to school, I'd say she'd win the spelling bee. I don't know how those words just get processed in her brain and then come straight out of her mouth so quick I'd have thought she was some sort of robot-android-cyber-person. I don't think I can process that much words in my head without getting a headache. Seriously.

"First off, Nudge," Angel interrupted. "I think they're Oklahoma _steaks_. Second, I think that's _Ohio, _not Oklahoma."

"Oh," Nudge said. "Really? Wow. Ohio, huh? Isn't that the place where those _Beaver Bars_ were? Like..in the mid 1600s, right? I wonder what _those _tasted like. Oh, I hope there're some in an Ohio museum or something. I wanna try one! Yeah, yeah! I wanna try a Beaver Bar! And Oklahoma barbeques! Oh, I mean steaks! That would be so cool! Oh, but I wonder if it's like.._expired _or something. I mean, it's been, like, a gazillion years since the Beaver Bars. Are those even edible? They could be bricks for all I know. I still want Oklahoma steaks and barbeques though! I wi—"

"_Nu-udge_!" Angel complained. "It's Beaver _Wars_, not Beaver _Bars_! And you can't eat wars!"

"Ohh, now I get it!" Nudge said. "No wonde—Max, you're head is bleeding!"

Yeah, like I haven't noticed.

No, seriously. By now, the left side of my forehead had cracked open and was spewing an amazing amount of blood all over half my face. Nudge, I'm sure, when she grows up, can definitely become an assassin who _talks _her victims into committing suicide. I swear, it's possible. With Nudge and her facial muscles' strength, and the amount of saliva she impossibly has, she'd easily turn _Total _into a mass murderer.

Which he, apparently, is trying to avoid. Cowering in Angel's arms, whimpering like a sick puppy with a broken leg, Total was _anything _but okay at this point.

"Ohmygosh! What happened, Max? Did a snake bite you from up the tree? Did a monkey claw at you? Did the bark scratch your head? Were the leaves—"

"I am _OKAY, _Nudge," I interrupted, rubbing my temples and getting myself a gory-looking left hand. "Seriously, I'm fine. It's just a small cut. Facial wounds bleed more, remember?"

Nudge bowed her head. "Right, sorry." And then her head shot back up. "But why do you have so many bruises? I can see, like, _bumps _on your head. But it could be your hair and everything, but seriously, I can see bruises and bumps, Max! Why do y—"

By _this _time, I've resulted to clutching each side of my head in an attempt to block out the infinite amount of jabbering. But the rambling went on, muffled in a way that was deafening and painful, only better described as _torture_. When Nudge had suddenly stopped, though, I wondered if I'd finally gone deaf, but the voice that followed proved me wrong.

"You know what, Nudge? I think that fishing net of yours caught some more trout. Why don't you go check it out while I patch Max up for a bit? I'll need a lot of fish to cook up another special meal for you guys."

I opened my eyes guardedly, loosening my grip on my already aching head. There I saw Iggy, with his arm around my shoulders reassuringly, his other hand cupped over Nudge's mouth, wearing a smile I wasn't sure I understood.

"Okay!" Nudge said after peeling Iggy's hand off her mouth. She scrambled up and started jogging away, her mouth mercifully shut.

When she was out of range, I sighed. "God, Ig," I muttered. "I _so _owe you."

He chuckled. "No prob, Max. I know what it feels like." He pointed to his ear twice, grimacing.

"Oh, right, super-hearing," I said, almost sorry for him.

"Oh, I get used to it," he said, shrugging. "Don't feel sorry or anything. You suffered enough, Max."

I had to laugh at that, consciously fingering the small cut on my head. Facial wounds really _do _bleed the most, but it does help when you want to control a blush—though the blood loss is a bit of a hassle…

"Angel! Angel, c'mere!" Nudge suddenly bellowed from somewhere beside the riverbank, her voice as loud as if she'd been standing right beside me. "Come talk to the fish or something! They're jumping like crazy!"

"You better go," Iggy said, smirking at Angel. "I need those fish."

Angel giggled. "Yeah, I'll make sure they swim into the pot."

"You do that," Iggy laughed, slapping Angel a high-five with perfect aim as she hurried past him.

She was about to head off when paused mid-step. She turned around and said, "Oh, and Iggy?"

He looked up in her direction, almost as though he could see her. "Yeah?"

"Thanks."

_Huh?_

He smiled solemnly. "No prob."

Angel, smiled back and waved as she ran off. For some reason, that adorable little girl seemed more mature than she used to be. I gotta say, though, for a six-and-a-half-year-old, Angel has an understanding for countless things parents would _kill _to get their children to have. I mean, she's sweet, helpful, and can kick Eraser butt easy. She knows exactly what to do whenever someone is just really hard to figure out (note the mind-reading) but that little girl can seriously grow really dangerous (the _mind-controlling _this time) and yet, on top of all that, she's still got her heart of gold (adorability and utmost cuteness). She's my baby, and I don't know what I'll do if _I _lost _her_.

And, now that I think of it, I don't know what I'll do if I'd lose _any _of the Flock. They're the ones who make me happy, keep me company, drive me to live life to whatever fullest our mutant capacity could possibly take. They were the ones keeping me up and running, and I owe them too much to even begin counting.

"Er, I'll uh, leave you two alone, then," Total declared, trotting off toward where Angel had disappeared into the trees.

"Huh?" I asked, confused.

"Err, so you banged your head on something?" Iggy asked, not answering my question.

Oh, right. I forgot about half my face being soaked in blood and covered with more bruises than skin—a bit of an exaggeration on the bruises, maybe. I probably didn't look any better than the tree I was ramming my head into. "Tree. Broke the bark, I think."

Iggy rolled his eyes, skimming through the spot on the tree where my head had carved out chunks of bark and left it raw. His gentle fingers found the dent in between. He pulled his hand away, wincing as a few smears of blood rubbed against his fingertips.

"You are so hard-headed, Max," he said, raising an eyebrow at me and chuckling.

I scowled in his direction, and, upon remembering his being blind, said, "I'm—"

"Scowling?" Iggy asked, a crooked smile on his face.

"Yeah, you're a genius," I said, smirking. "How did you guess?'

Oh, but inside, I keep wondering if he'd actually seen it. If somehow, his sight was returning. Even just a little bit. I mean, back in Antarctica, he had seen the snow, the white of the landscape. And just recently, he's been actually "seeing" huge landscapes that were composed of mainly one color. Like the sky, for example. He had a bit of trouble with the clouds, 'cause they were generally a different color, but after a ton of practice—with a great amount of staring—Iggy's seen the blueness of the sky. Though a tad blurry because of the clouds, Iggy's been seeing like a person with a 3000 high eyeglass prescription. Okay, yeah, high number, I _know_. But I was so happy for Iggy, and I remember _Fang _being happy for him as well, cracking a grin that seriously lit the whole place up. We were really glad that Iggy had his vision partially restored. We were glad that for once, he didn't feel as handicapped as he used to think. We were glad that we'd been together when that had happened. That we had experienced something important, and as a family.

But we're not really complete now, are we?

"What were you doing, anyway?" Iggy suddenly asked.

"Uh, well, the map got wet," I answered. "Nudge and Angel offered to help, but Nudge ended up rambling about every state she sees. I think she's still got Montana stuck on her arm, though.."

Iggy sniggered a bit and started to dig into his bag.

Out of the blue, I felt myself asking, "Iggy?"

He flopped down beside me, carrying a first aid kit. He started dabbing on something soft and cool on my head, his other hand digging around inside the kit for the anesthetic. "Yep?"

"If you'd pick only one of the five senses, which would you pick?"

He paused briefly, the cool cotton resting on my head for a second. Somewhere in me, I just know he'd pick sight—spending most of his life without it. He always talks about how he'd _kill _just to be able to see. I'm almost sure.

Almost.

"Touch."

I did a double take. "Huh?"

"Touch," Iggy repeated, dabbing on some anesthetic this time. I winced when the wound stung a bit, but I'd been through worse pain. "Feeling. To be able to feel stuff."

"Uhm, why?"

He shrugged, returning the anesthetic and the bag of cotton back in the kit. "It's the only sense that makes you sure you're alive. Makes you _feel _alive. I mean, I'd _kill _to be able to see, but if I don't feel anything at all," his finger brushed over the cut on my forehead, "I'd consider myself dreaming."

He applied a small, checkered bandage on the cut, smiling warmly at me. "There's an underlying meaning to that," he said. "I'm just not smart enough to give a better explanation."

He returned the first aid kit back to his pack, zipping it closed. He sat beside me again, closing his eyes and leaning his head on the tree, sighing. His face was probably four or five inches from mine. I closed my eyes, leaning back as well, carefully laying my bandaged head on his shoulder. Next to me, I could hear Iggy's steady breathing; I could hear his heartbeat, as loudly as if it were my own.

I could feel him.

Unexpectedly, Iggy's hand reached out to me, weaving his fingers around each of mine. He peeked at me from below his eyelids, smiling.

In one rush of adrenaline, and the energy that flew through me followed by the warmth from his touch, for once, since…since Fang left…

…I felt alive.

* * *

…

…

**\\-bLudySplATonThuhFlo0r-/**

**-Max POV-**

…

…

* * *

"How to find Fang...how to find Fang…how to find Fang..."

"Reciting a mantra won't help, Max."

"So is relying on bits of waterlogged paper, Ig."

Okay, so deciding that dirty mold with names of states smudged all over was _not _going to help navigate through possibilities and routes, finding Fang suddenly went from really exciting and adrenaline-rushed to clueless and zip with potential.

"Yeah, yeah," Iggy rolled his eyes. "Better than nothing, maybe."

"How to find Fang...how to find Fang…how to find Fang..."

"Oy," Iggy groaned, slapping a palm over his forehead. "Okay, okay. First, tell me everything that happened."

That's not gonna be easy.

"Uh, ask a question," I prompted.

"Huh? Uh, well…" Iggy looked thoughtful, poking at his jaw. "Why did you fall out of the sky? Did you faint or something?"

It felt like I was punched in the face. Recalling that time was like getting beaten up. It was too hard to keep remembering, and even harder to force yourself to believe it was true. Even worse was telling yourself a different story, making all possibilities come to fruition, just to give a better explanation to yourself. It didn't feel right, but the truth never really felt all that great either.

But if it's to find Fang and wring his neck for an explanation, I might as well suck it up.

"It was 'cause Fang—h-he—I-I—I _had _to stop him. He suddenly—"

I froze, the words getting stuck in my throat before I could completely get them out.

_Kissed me_ was what I was about to say, but I don't think I'd tell that to Iggy just yet. It was a little hard to comprehend, the…kiss, and it got my mind reeling into practical combustion just thinking about it. I mean, _kiss and goodbye_? He was clearly forced into leaving. I guess the kiss was the goodbye he wanted. I just knew, in me, that Fang wouldn't do that if he really wanted to leave. Fang wouldn't leave _period_, actually. I just—I just know it. Doing that—_kissing _me—would mean that he didn't want me to get hurt because of his departure. He didn't want me to come after him. He did it for something important. Something that would help.

At least, that's what I thought it was.

"He suddenly…?" Iggy asked.

"—suddenly hugged me," I finished lamely, flushing a deep red. He did, right? Just not at the time, not in the way Iggy might understand, but he still did. "Th-then he pulled away. It took…a while for me to straighten up, but when I did, there were seven Flyboys surrounding me," I staggered helplessly through the words. "And clone-me. You know, the Max clone from before? She was there too. I saw Fang overhead, up a few boulders and hills with his wings stretched out. He suddenly took off without a running start, so I did a hit-and-fly. I got to him right on time, arguing and yanking at his arm as hard as I could. I didn't want him to just slip free, b-but he suddenly—suddenly had some _massive _strength—stronger than I've ever seen him." I ducked my head, trying to stop the quiver in my voice. "H-he—he hugged me again, but that time he aimed for a silent knock out." I absently touched the spot where his ethereal touch still tingled, where I felt his gentle fingers attack my nerves, where his breathing had stroked my skin, brought me calm, and brought me into unconsciousness, knowing Iggy was right below me. He always had a soft touch, and his logical, more dominant side always found out the best of chances, choices and possibilities he could take, where nothing could turn bad.

Oh, but he screwed up the last time. Yeah, that was most definitely not one of his top ten best choices.

"He got me at the back of my neck," I finished.

There was a short pause before Iggy spoke, "Oh."

Before I thought he'd ask me to elaborate more on the details and torture me with questions too hard to answer or even _talk _about, Iggy suddenly asked, a new sense of urgency in his voice, "Which direction did you see…_him _fly away?"

I blinked, caught off guard. I let out a relieved sigh; at least he hadn't asked the question I thought he would. I stole a glance at Iggy, who had more than just a determined face on. His eyes were set, fueled by adrenaline, and he looked as though finding Fang became an even higher priority than it already was. For once, Iggy didn't look like he cared at all about the reason, the explanation, and the part where he beats up Fang for what he did. All he started to care about was bringing him back, finding him, and returning our family to normal—whatever "normal" really is for us.

"West," I answered almost instantly. "No. North. Northwest."

"Are you sure?" Iggy questioned.

"Yes," I confirmed. I was pretty dazed then, but I was just barely alert enough to take note of where Fang was disappearing off to.

There was a long pause as Iggy weighed our options. I pondered over the answers I gave him, really thankful that he had been here to be the sounding board. We always had the best ideas when we bounced them back and forth. It got the juices in our heads running, that's for sure.

I took a quick glimpse at what used to be our map, digging deep into my memory bank.

"_**Everyone's an enemy."**_

"_**What's happening? Why do you have all your stuff with you?"**_

"_**Isn't it obvious?"**_

Angel asked us if she could look for Gazzy. I was still trapped in the past, my eyes wide open in a daze; I heard Iggy answer for me, as if from somewhere far away.

"_**Why, Fang?"**_

"_**I can't tell you."**_

Nudge announced something about her following Angel. I nodded numbly, and let Iggy voice out my response. I didn't mind; he knew what I would say anyway. He knew me well enough.

"_**You really want to fight me?"**_

"Max?" I heard Iggy ask.

"_**Bye, Max."**_

"Yo, Max, you still breathing?"

"There are Flyboys around the forest," I declared. There was a ring of authority in my voice, as if the old me was still somewhere deep under the crazy.

"What? How do you know?" Iggy questioned. I don't know how I knew; I didn't even _know_ that I knew. All I knew was that I knew this with some amount of certainty.

"I…I don't know, Ig," I stammered, clutching my bloody head. "I don't know how I know."

"But you're certain they're there?"

"Yeah. Lots of them. Hundreds, maybe; I don't know."

"How could you have known? I haven't even sensed them."

"They're waiting at the forest borders. Waiting for us. We're trapped."

There wasn't any trace of fear in my voice. Apparently, this wasn't a very big deal. My heartbeat was normal, and there wasn't the usual rush of adrenaline shooting through my veins. I didn't have that urge to kick butt. What was wrong with me?

"We're not trapped," Iggy said fiercely. If he hadn't been blind, there would have been fire burning in his eyes. "We'll find a way."

Urgently, he grabbed me by the hand and pulled me up, just as Total came trotting out of a nearby bush. Though _trotted_ didn't seem like the right word. _Scampered _was probably more appropriate. As soon as he caught sight of us, he hurried over, his wheezy dog breaths coming out as raspy gasps.

"What is it?" I heard Iggy ask.

"Angel… big and furry…riverbank," Total whimpered, laying his furry head on the ground. He didn't have enough energy to form coherent sentences; that means something was up. Something horrible.

Just as I threw Iggy a stricken look, a familiar shriek pierced through the air. A shriek both of us knew very well. Without thinking, I spread my wings, ready to fly. The rush of adrenaline was back, stronger than ever, and my blood battered through my ears, in time with the beat of my heart.

"Angel," Total gasped with a final breath, before dropping to the ground with a muffled thump.

Together, Iggy and I threw ourselves into the air.

"Flyboys," I muttered darkly under my breath. They weren't getting her. Not if I had anything to say about it. They'd already gotten Fang, and I'll be damned if I let them get anyone else.

Not Angel. Not again.

"_**Trust me, Max. Just trust me."**_

I blinked away the tears that threatened to come, the sudden pain that burst through my empty chest stinging around the edges as I heaved in heavy breaths.

"_**It's better this way."**_

"Max, you okay? We have to go get Angel—"

"_**Goodbye, Max."**_

"Not again," I growled, just one more time, before I sped off towards where the Flock was being attacked, leaving a confused Iggy behind. As the wind whipped hair into my face, I wiped the back of my hand across my eyes, to get rid of any evidence. This wasn't going to happen again.

Not again.

* * *

**\\-bLudySplATonThuhFlo0r-/**

**-Author's Note- **

**Sorry to have ended it there, I'm just a little busy. anyways, hope you like it! R&R! Thanks for reading!**


	5. Flee

**A/N: here's the next chapter guys. Sorry it took so long XD. It **_**is **_**a pretty long chapter. Sort of. I broke my word budget mark—again. A friend and I are having small issues about the length of a chapter. Okay maybe big issues. When a word mark is set, we never seem to get anywhere below or on it XD. My friend helped me here, btw. Anyway, R&R! **

**p.s. you'll be switching from POVs a little bit here XD.**

**\\-bLudySplATonThuhFlo0r-/**

**-Fang POV-**

"Can I break it?"

"No."

"Can I break it _now_?"

"NO."

"Uh…_now_?"

"SHUT. UP."

"You know, the whole self-defense thing would be way easier if you just let me go."

"Whatever happened to your so-called vow of silence?"

"It wasn't a vow. It was more like a hobby."

I grinned, landing a sidekick at the chest of a nearby Flyboy. This was way too easy. Years of experience with Max had honed my ability to get under people's skin. And _this_ Max actually hated me, and was currently using up her nonexistent patience trying to kick the proverbial crap out of a bunch—and by a bunch, I mean a whole lot—of Flyboys. All while physically chained to a walking, talking ball of supersonic cynicism.

I might not have known her very well, but I think it's safe to say that it wasn't a good day for her.

"Will you please get up?" Max II grunted, swinging her leg hard over my shackled arm to snag a Flyboy right on the jaw. "It's getting kind of hard to fight when you're weighing me down."

"Really? I hadn't noticed." My knee snapped forward, smashing my foot into another Flyboy's shoulder. I heard a loud pop as his arm was ripped right out of its socket. "Not my problem, is it? You were the one who chained me to your wrist."

"Yeah, and that worked out well, didn't it?"

"Is that sarcasm I hear?"

"It comes with three hours of having to deal with _you_."

"You wouldn't have to be fighting so hard if you just let me break the damn thing. It's not like I'm not _strong_ enough or anything." I let the sarcasm drawl out as I watched someone get pummeled by her roundhouse kick with little interest. I gotta say, having seen Max do that to an Eraser millions of times, it's hardly entertaining anymore.

"Why, you think I can't break it myself?"

"I don't know. I'm going to have to see some proof. Why don't you demonstrate your amazing strength on these here shackles?"

She expertly hopped over me, sidestepping a hairy claw and flinging her free hand smack into a Flyboy's forehead. With a sickening crunch, the Flyboy started writhing in pain, collapsing loudly a few inches away from me. "Don't push it," she growled, pushing the hair out of her eyes. Beads of sweat gathered in the corners of her face, so like Max, and her inky black hair was a blur as she raced around me, kicking and punching and knocking Flyboy heads off in the most literal interpretation.

While my inadvertent partner tried to avoid being turned into minced meat, I was sitting cross-legged on the sand, looking quite untroubled by the fact that I was surrounded by what seemed to be thousands and thousands of Flyboys. In fact, I was looking kind of cheery, and, surprisingly enough, generally intact. Not a scratch on me. Which is…weird—considering the fact that I was surrounded by what seemed to be thousands and thousands of Flyboys, but yeah.

That might be due to the fact that this latest batch of electronic assassins appeared to be lacking eyesight, or a solid bird-kid radar, because even though I was here, more than ready to chopsuey some metallic butt, not a single one of them tried to do any sort of damage to me. It's like I wasn't even there. And that suited me just fine. Sure, I had to dodge a flying Flyboy now and then, get out of the way of a thrashing arm when the claws looked dangerously close, but that was the extent of my self-defense.

Max II, meanwhile, had no such luck. The Flyboys pounded her mercilessly, swarming her like flies, overpowering her skills with their sheer number. I almost, _almost_ got up to help her. Must be the protective instinct, and the fact that she looked so much like Max. I would never just lie down and let Max take a beating like that while I was here…not being beat up. But she wasn't Max, even she looked enough like her to be called her clone; she was just another one of my captors being shredded to bits by some other people I hate. And since she objected me to the worse kind of pain I could possibly imagine, then was I going out of my way to stop her from getting hurt? I don't think so.

"Or so help me, bird boy, " she shrieked, narrowly evading a Flyboy's grasp, "if you don't want to be barbecued chicken nuggets after I get out of this, you'd better get your butt off that sand and—"

Before she could finish her threat, it was then that Flyboys decided to do a pileup on top of her, burying her under a flurry of flailing limbs.

"Oh, fine," I sighed, tugging at the wrist that was still shackled to mine, the only part of her that I could see. I took my time getting on my feet (there was no need to rush, after all), and dusted sand off my jeans before wrenching a random furry hand and flinging its owner high over my head. I yanked another Flyboy by its collar and tossed him aside like a marble (and no, I'm not exaggerating), keeping a firm grip on Max II's hand while I made my way through the pile.

Pretty soon, another growing pile of unconscious cronies sat limp behind me (having just experienced the curious sensation of being flung a hundred meters into the air, and then landing face-first into the unforgiving sand), and Max II was on her knees, coughing up a sandstorm. I stood guard over her as she clutched her chest, wheezing, keeping a wary eye on the moaning mound of scrap metal just in case. Getting sucker-punched by gravity must really hurt.

"You sure took your sweet time," she grunted into her hand.

"What can I say? They were heavy. I'm not a freaking crane lift."

"No. You're just a dude with wings, years of fighting experience, a raging temper and hell of a lot of superhuman strength."

"Yeah. But still."

If she hadn't been doubled over, spitting out wads of Flyboy hair, I could've sworn she would've stuck her tongue out at me.

"What do you suppose that was?" she asked me, once she could breathe properly again. She staggered upright, holding onto my arm for balance, and looked over at the heap of KO'd robots (for lack of better things to call them).

"Why are you asking me? This was _your_ plan. I'm just a pawn, remember?"

"I don't think I had "get mauled by corporate lackeys" written down on my planner. This wasn't part of the plan. Not _my_ plan, at any rate."

"Oh, no."

"I mean, all they told me was that I had to get you there safe—"

"I think you should turn around."

"—and the Flyboys were supposed to just follow _my_ orders—"

"Uh, Max…clone?"

"What the hell—"

"Turn. Around."

"WHAT?" she finally screamed, angry that I'd disrupted her monologue.

"We have a sort of problem."

"WHAT KIND OF PROBLEM?"

"That." I nodded at the horizon, where a sea of black hovered just under the sun, flying in an alarmingly fast rate in a direction that didn't bode well for us. In the distance, they looked like foreboding storm clouds darkening the sky. But since when did storm clouds have huge metal wings, threatening looking armor and internal engines that propelled them towards us in a very un-storm cloud way?

You could almost hear the thud as Max II's jaw fell to the floor. "Aw, crap."

As more swarms of Flyboys zoomed towards us, looking pretty darn mad for a bunch of robots, I stared pointedly at Max II, and then at the handcuffs binding us together.

"So…can I break it _now_?"

**\\-bLudySplATonThuhFlo0r-/**

**-Gazzy POV-**

I've had what most people would call an _abnormal_ childhood. I'm eight years old, and already, I've punched more lights out than that boxer dude who was named after that one arcade game. I'd been a science experiment for the first four years of my life, and then an underage runaway for the four years after. I've seen my baby sister kidnapped by mutant werewolf guys with guns and helicopters, and I've heard Iggy try to (in a very off-key voice) sing Britney Spears as a dare; the two most disturbing memories any kid can possibly have.

But what I've never, ever done in my whole entire life is…

…wrestle a bear.

…

And it is friggin' awesome.

It's almost exactly like trying to ride an angry bull, except this dude had hairy arms like an Eraser, and it was kind of stomping around in anger, like King Kong was in that movie, King Kong. And then we were in a river, not one of those arena things, so everything was sort of dripping wet.

I hooked my arms around its neck, trying not to get thrown off. He was kind of pissed for a bear; he must have just come out of hibernation or something. I hear they're more irritable then. He thrashed around the river, trying to get my hold on him to loosen. I grabbed clumps of his fur and dug my foot into its back.

"No, Gazzy!" Angel shrieked, from a safe distance on the shore. None of us have ever really seen a bear, except on TV and on billboards and ads and stuff, and I think Angel's gotten it into her head that bears are supposed to be all cute and snuggly and huggable, like Celeste. She must not want me to hurt it.

_Gazzy, let it go_.

"No way!" I yelled in her direction—or at least, what I think is her direction. It was getting hard to tell, what with the bear swinging me around like a rag doll. "Stay out of this, Angel! This is my fight!"

I've always wanted to say that. It sounded so cool in the movies.

And Angel was the whole reason I attacked the thing in the first place. If it didn't go all growling at Angel when we flew past and tried to grab her leg with his big, hairy paws, then I wouldn't have acted on big-brotherly instinct and gone battle mode. If only she'd noticed the bloody gash on her leg, the one the bear made when it tried to eat her, maybe she would have been less sympathetic and more…Angel-scary. Yeah, Angel has her very own definition of scary.

"Get out of the way, you guys!" I roared, as the bear reared his head. But his roar was louder than mine. Nudge and Angel didn't budge an inch.

­_Gaz_. ­_Heads up_.

"What?" I shouted.

Just then, a feathery streak of white, brown and blonde swung past me, and a familiar-looking foot crashed into the bear's stomach with the force of a ton of bricks.

"Take that," Max screamed, her voice slightly broken, but somehow still managing to sound fierce, "you big, metal…furry…thing?"

Bears, wouldn't you know it, hadn't been granted by evolution much muscle in the stomach department. So Yogi here—calling it _the bear_ just seemed so…weird—didn't handle Max's very well aimed kick lightly. Completely forgetting I was still hanging around its neck, it went rogue and started tramping around the river, clutching its stomach in pain. It let out a menacing growl and clawed at Max, who nimbly dodged out of the way, her mouth contorted into a confused scowl.

"What the hell?" she yelled, eyes wide, staring at the bear. "This isn't a Flyboy—"

"Flyboy?" I managed to grunt, as it flung me this way and that.

"But it's a…it's a bear!" Max murmured, more to herself than anything.

"Grizzly," Angel corrected.

"A _bear_!" she repeated, dazed and confused. "You're getting attacked by a _bear_!"

"Hey! It's not attacking me, I'm the one attacking _it!_"

"Which makes it better how?"

"Gazzy, let the thing go already!"

"It's a BEAR!"

_Gazzy. Let. It. Go._

"Yes, Max, we can see it's a bear! Are you okay?"

The bear, having paid no attention to the argument of the humans that were trying to hurt it, continued to storm around in animalistic rage.

_Get off him, Gaz. He's hurt._

"Good. That'll teach him to mess with the Gasman," I muttered, knowing Angel could hear me, even above _Yogi_'s pained growls.

_Don't make me make you prick your foot with a needle again and again, like last time,_ she warned. Such a sweet little sister.

"Gasser!" came another voice. I flattened myself against the bear's fur and peeked sideways. Iggy was standing behind Nudge, his sightless eyes scrunched up as his ears strained to find me. "Where are you?"

"WHERE DO YOU THINK I AM?" I shouted. Man, I know he was blind and all, but I didn't think he was _this_ slow. "HOW DO I GET IT TO STOP?"

"Hit it with a tranquilizer dart," he suggested.

"Uh…I don't happen to have one on me right now," I said, just loud enough for him to hear. "And I'm rolling my eyes here, Ig."

"Yeah, yeah, I know," he grunted, and raised his head in my direction. "Uh…you think you can manage to catch one?"

"One what?"

"A tranquilizer dart."

"You have a _dart_?" Max shrieked, snapping out of her daze for a minute to use her didn't-I-tell-you-to-lay-off-the-deadly-stuff voice.

"You think you can catch the one I'm gonna throw you," Iggy repeated, pretending not to have heard her, "without getting yourself killed?"

"Uh…" I pondered on this for a moment, while the bear took its time flattening me against a tree in a way that really kind of hurt. "I don't think so, Ig," I mumbled, my voice muffled by the bear. "Why not just stop pretending you have no aim and use the gun?"

"What gun?"

"You have a _gun_? Oh, you guys are so de—"

"Well, if you have a tranquilizer dart, then you should have a tranquilizer _gun_, right?"

"Nope. No gun."

"WHAT?!" I screamed, narrowly dodging a possibly life-threatening gazillion kilogram fur-coated arm. Oh, and did I mention that the said arm was from a seven foot tall Yogi bear?? "Are you planning to shoot that with a _**straw**_?!"

"Hell no. It's _way_ too big to fit in a straw. Besides, where the hell can I find a straw??"

"CAN YOU NOT WORRY ABOUT THE FRIGGIN STRAW AND HELP ME??"

"Fine, _fine_!!" Iggy bellowed, and I could've sworn he was scrunching his eyes to focus or something, (when was he supposed to do _that_?) but there was something blocking my line of sight pretty good, and I guess the fact that it had the ability to _breathe_, move, and go on a rampage against something it probably mistakes for a _really _sorry excuse for fried chicken freaking _spells_ overgrown-rogue-mountain-bear-with-bad-eyesight-and-a-prick-on-its-paw. Add to the fact that it was trying to gnaw my head off makes it pretty much useless to try to assume vision-failure-slash-hallucinations. Besides, there could be _dirt _in Iggy's eyes for all I care—but that never really stopped _him_ now, did it?

A spark in the air distorted my vision (like my eyes can _take _more!), and it wasn't long until I felt Yogi-overgrown-mountain-bear's head shoot down, big pointy teeth bared and ready to do it's respective gnawing. I mean, it _barely _missed my head, yeah, but it _did _manage to chunk off a part of my cheek. Which is part of my face. Which bleeds more. Which probably translates to _big-fat-gory-mess_ this time. Oh, and I mightn't have mentioned the fact that it really, _really _hurts.

No seriously. Big OW.

"Dude! CATCH!"

"PLEASE notice the current blood loss my face is going through right now, Ig!" I bellowed from below, rolling out of Yogi's hammering paws.

"I don't know, if you may or may have not noticed for the past eight years of your _life_, I'M BLIND!"

"Oh yeah? Let's see you ram into a tree!"

Yogi pummeled my shoulder with his darn two-ton paw, pinning me to the ground and probably snapping my shoulder in a way that is considered very, _very_ uncomfortable (lack of descriptive words and functioning brain cells may have just caused that to be way too much an understatement—again, big fat friggin' OW).

"STOP THE ARGUMENT AND TRY TO _LIVE _DARN IT!!"

For the second time now, a familiar looking pair of boots and a flash of blonde connected with Yogi's ridiculously fat neck. With a twisted, adrenaline-drug-induced howl, Yogi's head snapped to the side, effectively and quite helpfully dragging the weight along with him. Max shot off with the speed and tumbled forward, skidding to one side, dangerously close to the seriously pissed off already-rogue-Yogi. Reality was finally catching up to the animal, and fatigue hit him like Max's boots to the neck with an 80km/hr speed (or just plain Max's boots to the neck with an 80km/hr speed). But that didn't really stop the _rogue _part of its brain (which was probably on overdrive by now). So with the worst-looking balance—for a bear with a prick on its paw (or something)—Yogi stood on all fours once again, looking more drunk than..well…a drunk.

"DUDE! DART! TWELVE O' CLOCK!"

And then there's that _other _part of reality I was getting to: GRAVITY.

I staggered to my feet and ducked, right in time to look back up and see a tree ready to body slam my face and a dart ready to poke my eye really, _really _hard. Yogi's paw overshot, and luckily caused him his balance—for the umpteenth time in a row—which gave me some time (at least…I _think_ it did). With a short burst of adrenaline (and some of the granola bars Ig and I stashed away for backup), I leaped in the air and caught the dart, landing flat on my stomach (shoulder damage and recurring pin downs by Yogi made me think otherwise about my face—which is feeling really gross, by the way). I winced when I felt the dart's sharp edge sting my palm, luckily not poking a hole into it, though—having the sudden urge to lie down and sleep in the middle of what looks like a _Pacman _game where you're the blobby-ghost-thing is so _not _what I needed right now.

Another drug-induced howl sprang from Yogi's foamy mouth, the only warning I had of another attack—you know, I'm still wondering why I was the specific mutant fried chicken he was targeting. It was enough though, but my reflexes were too late. I was still in the midst of post-gravity-impact, and the full brunt hadn't even registered until more than a third of a minute. For a moment, I was frozen, with only my head to turn and spot the huge brown cloud hovering over me, shrouding the sun. But then again, when did clouds have bloodshot eyes, pointy, saliva-coated teeth and blades on every finger anyway? Much less the fact that it was _brown_. I mean, I know Global Warming has its effects, and first-hand experiences plastered the facts in my head, but I don't think the assorted grayscale of puffy clouds we used to fly through could have poofed up brown and dirty in a span of at least half a year—at least, I _think_ it didn't.

With force of reflex whenever I knew there was almost _nothing_ to do, I shut my eyes tight, gripping at the dart's body tight, preparing to drive the toxin into its bloodstream. To hell with defeating it _alive_. _I _need to live too, you know.

_Gazzy NO!_

My eyes shot open at the sound of Angel's command, wide and alert, when I felt my arm twist away from its aim against Yogi. Horror streaked through my face, and _now _I was positively sure there was absolutely _nothing _to do. Yogi's fatness was going to crush me, my wings, and make us all explode (I haven't gone _anywhere _without my personal stash of explosives, y'know).

_There's another way. _

As if in slow motion, Yogi's towering form descended, and for the second time, I felt myself shut my eyes tight, prepared to get the meaning of _gravity_ in mere seconds.

All of a sudden, a bone crunching sound broke through the slow-mo-ish moment, snapping everything back into perspective. When things came back to reality and time went at its normal rate, I realized, after about five seconds—five seconds, in which, if I may point out, I was supposed to be sandwiched in the middle of the ground and a two-ton bear—that I was alive (and not sandwiched in the middle of the ground and a two-ton bear).

Instead of the slow motion-like moment a while ago, everything felt silent. There was buzz running through my ears, and a loud, high-pitched noise rang through my head. When I struggled to look up, blotches of green, purple, blue and other ploppy colors hazed my vision.

Before I knew it, my senses snapped back up, and a loud _whoosh_, deafening and strident, forced back my ears and got my attention. I turned my head sharply in the direction of the sound, sure that I _wasn't _dead and that no one was exploding (it happens sometimes, so I'm pretty much used to the whole I-think-I'm-dead-but-I'm-suddenly-alive-thing-stand-up-before-God-changes-his-mind uh..thing). And out of the blue, I saw Iggy's tall form get slammed into a nearby tree, a portly, stubby, fifty-gajillion kilogram arm hovering nearby as the root of the attack. Iggy's mouth splurted out blood, and I really, really hoped it wasn't from internal bleeding. His body crumpled downwards, but he was able to hold his ground, only one knee landing on the dew grass. Iggy clutched his stomach in pain, gritting his teeth but letting out no scream or moan. He _did _grunt, though, coupled with a spit of blood to one side, clearly pissed off.

"Thanks, Ange," Iggy grunted. "But you could've stopped at the direction _only_. I could do without the injuries thank you very much."

"Sorry!" Angel replied sincerely. "I don't really like…er…controlling you guys, you know…with my _mind_ an' all…well I mean, it's not like _everyday_ I just _randomly _throw a person in the air with my brain and everything—HO-OH MY GOSH IGGY DUCK!"

Iggy didn't hesitate and shot down, right before the jinormous Yogi arm crashed into the tree behind him, scraping at Iggy's hair. You could almost see the smoke fizzing above his locks with friction, and it apparently caused no bother to Iggy.

Then again, it _could _be a fuse.

"Dammit," he muttered, wiping at the corners of his mouth. "I was saving the friction-fuse prototype for something friggin' _mutant _related."

Suddenly, his face turned annoyed, an evilish sort of smile curling into his face. A little loudly this time, he said, "But I _think _I can make an exception."

Suddenly, he brought his hand above his head, moving to the side with a shift of his leg. He ducked beneath another one of Yogi's useless flailing limbs and, with one swift movement, jerked his hand up and away from the hole in the tree where his head was just seconds before. With about two seconds of interval-time, a spark erupted from the tree, and no longer was the immediate area shrouded with smoke.

_Smoke bomb! _

It didn't seem like the ones Iggy used to put something as sturdy and relatively conscious like a rogue elephant to sleep. We were all clearly wide awake—if you considered bruised, bloody and somewhat burnt wide awake, that is. The smoke that exploded from the bomb's core wasn't thick and foggy like most of the smoke bombs we made, but more of a _mist _blurring up the perimeter, _even _with our raptor vision. My breath hitched up for a moment, and in that instance I felt like suffocating, I doubled over and fell on all fours, coughing.

_Gazzy! The dart! Iggy's on his way!_

What I would seriously _give _to have some peace in my head for once!

I grunted. Now I know what _Max _must've felt about the Voice thing in her head.

With my eyes shut tight like this, it was pretty hard fumbling around in the ground looking for something that could paralyze you for the next few days, mind you me. I was pretty much a bunch of nerves while my fingers dug around for the dart. I mean, I _tried _to open my eyes and all, but _that _particular stunt didn't turn out so well 'cause every time I did, tears welled up in my eyes like they were smothered in onion soup, and if anything, I did_ not_ want to get caught crying in the middle of a wrestling match. Especially one with a drug-induced foamy-mouthed Yogi bear.

_You are __**so **__not setting your priorities straight._

Bah! You'd laugh, I said in my head, searching more frantically now for the damn dart.

_Hmm…true, but still unreasonable! _

Why did she not suffer from suffocation by now? The mist was _fat_ and _grubby_. It _hurts _to even _move _in it.

Oh, right. Iggy said he's sorry for the misty thingy-majig, it apparently **was **a prototype bomb thing you were keeping a secret from Max **again**—she emphasized on again a little exaggeratedly—and Iggy said he hadn't worked the…the…**chinks **out. I think. Oh, and can you move to your left like…twenty degrees? I think Max and Iggy are about to—

Without a second to waste, the mist's current swirled another direction as a huge Yogi-sized whoosh carried the air and slammed it poofilly at a nearby tree. I blinked the tears away from my eyes and focused on the scene that was unfolding: Max with all her weight brought upon Yogi's right, and Iggy with most of _his _on Yogi's left, successfully pinning down the giant against a tree.

_Ohh! Do I have to do everything __**myself**__?!_

Suddenly, my hand twisted backwards and chafed against the ground, and I felt a sudden stabbing cold at my fingertips.

Ohh, the dart. I forgot about that.

_YEESH! Just grab the thing and go!_

I couldn't help but wonder where the hell Angel was right now.

"GAZ!" Max screeched, ramming Yogi's left side into the tree again, disconcerting the already insane fur ball.

"_**NOW!!**_" this time both Iggy and Max said in unison.

Geez, talk about a pushy couple.

I snapped my wings out and launched myself into the air in a second, getting as much downstrokes I can mush into the short amount of time _and _space to clear away some of the mist. I almost insanely thought of flinging the dart at Yogi but thought otherwise since more than one head was involved, and whichever I shot at wouldn't make a difference in the anger issues I was going to deal with in the form of _blood, sweat, _and_ more blood._

I shuddered.

I did a sidespin in the air, probably looking like a miniature tornado going sideways, distorting the air—or should I say, _mist_—current, also landing a kick to Yogi's seriously gross foamy mouth, getting his neck into the perfect position. While in the momentum, I did another half spin and jabbed the dart into his neck, right in the nerve which I presumed did a bit of most of the damage with consciousness—and I friggin' reckon we needed the damage.

With one last, freakish roar, Yogi slumped forward, nearly crushing Iggy and Max under his foamy—er, I mean, _furry_—goodness (not that it did much good—to _us_, I mean), _if _I hadn't been the one to drag them away.

"Peh," Max and Iggy said in unison, spitting something to either side of them.

Seriously, freakish mutant couple right here.

Max looked blank for a moment, and then burst out saying, "_What_ did you call us?!"

"Huh?"

I heard a small giggle from behind me and a soft thud as Angel landed on the ground, bouncing happily around to meet us—it looked pretty morbid, by the way, since there was blood drooling all over her arm.

It took a fraction of a second for me to register the fact that it was Angel, my bloody sister who nearly killed all of us today trying to help a foamy stuffed animal from either killing us or not dying _because _of us.

It took no time at all, though, to lunge at her and tackle her to the ground.

"Kyaaaaaah!!" Angel screamed, squirming under my hold. "Heyy!!"

"You—freakish—little—sister!" I said in between my attacks—attacks, which by the way, did no harm whatsoever, unless of course you consider laughing to _death _any harm.

"Pff—hahaha!—Gazzy you—hahaahh!—stop—kyaaah!!" Angel desperately tried to talk with her version of mumbled coherence, struggling under my hold. As her brother, of course, I knew all the tickle spots her body held, and I knew which particular ones were easy _and _dangerous at the same time. She had no chance (manic laughter here).

"Kyaaah!" she squeaked again, laughing uncontrollably. "Max! Iggy! Help!"

"Baah!" Iggy said, annoyed, but the corners of his mouth tugging up. "You nearly killed us with your irresistible urge to hug big fluffy monsters and your stinkin' mind control!"

"Same here," Max said, holding back her laughter, trying to keep a serious, leader-like face.

"AHHAHAHAHAHAAH!!" Angel squealed, tears bubbling up at the corners of her eyes. "Not _fair_!! Hahahahaahaaah!!"

My peripherals weren't fooled though, and neither did this alibi. In the corners of my eyes, Max and Iggy's faces were but masks of shammed happiness. Angel knew that too, but none of us were really showing any signs of—it was like some unspoken agreement between us.

I could just imagine what would've happened if…Fang were here. My big brother. He would've swooped in without a second thought, probably throw in a few words about _why_ it was a bear attacking sweet little devious Angel, like Max (words along the lines of _"Get out you…you…__**bear**__? What the hell Gaz? Did you think…this is a friggin' gummy bear?!"_), and we would have laughed, even under the circumstances. He would have gotten most shots at the animal, and he would have accepted the bloody gashes Yogi was probably prepared to gnaw at him, all in the name of protecting us. Fang would have single-handedly pinned the bear down, and either Max or Nudge would have gotten Angel away and to safety—most likely Nudge since Max _obviously _couldn't stay away from Fang all that long. Iggy would have rushed in _directly _to Fang, without the whole help-dammit-I'm-blind-don't-ya-know thing in midair. They probably would have knocked Yogi straight out without any dangerous pointy dart help.

There were probably hundreds of other possibilities if Fang were here, and hundreds of other ways what happened could have gone incredibly wrong, hilarious, or downright crazy—I, personally, pick the latter (the last two are shoe-ins).

But we sure as hell would've taken _seconds _to do what we just did that took us way too long if Fang were here.

"Oh, hey, look," Iggy suddenly said, looking pointedly at something in the ground. "Anyone wanna wrestle with an anaconda?"

**\\-bLudySplATonThuhFlo0r-/**

**-Fang POV-**

"For the millionth _time_, NO!!"

"Dammit, just let me _break _the darn thing. Extend it, even. This _isn't _comfortable. At all."

"Yeah, and I suppose being alone in a barren desert with at least a thousand metallic wolverines at your heels _isn't_ comfortable? Just be glad _I _haven't broken these _myself_. For all I care, you could be bait."

"Oooo, scary," I groaned, rolling my eyes and tugging at the feeble chain linking us together. Max II staggered, sliding against the sand. "Was that a threat?" I mused, a smirk playing along my lips. "Let's see your awesome show of strength upon these chains now, hmm?"

She gritted her teeth, crouched low, looking like she was ready to spring at me any time—which she probably was. "Don't try to be sneaky. Just an F.Y.I.: you're _not_. Don't think I suffered _this_ much with you just to let this useless piece of chain I so hardly kept from obliterating _hours _ago get obliterated anyway!"

I rolled my eyes again. "Ugh. Whatever. Climb onto my back will you? I think I know what the whitecoats are testing for."

She did a double-take, just like the real Max would have done. Inwardly, I winced; outwardly, I sniggered. She was too _Max_. In a way. But there was still an aura about her. Something different. Like her own will—which she so obviously had such a stubborn amount of, based on the perfect condition these friggin' handcuffs were in.

"Err…_come again_?" she spoke, leaning her ear closer as if I didn't just tell her to climb onto my back.

"Climb. Onto. My. Back," I repeated, stressing every word at her ear, clearly not bothered at all by the hordes of shiny werewolves of steel creating their version of a sandstorm fifty meters from us.

"_Again, _please. I could've sworn you just told me to—"

"Oh for Pete's sake!" I exclaimed, ducking. With one swift movement, I scooped her off the ground and snapped my wings open, at the same second launching us off the sand, just seconds away from a fate involving further existence scattered all over the sand.

The look on Max II's face was priceless. Besides the rosier complexion and the usual wrinkled brows, the _shock _and _downright dumbstruck _look on her face had to be the shoe-ins.

She should be surprised, I guess, because I could fly. Well, I _can _fly, that's for sure. Anybody can, but with some people, it involves the sensation of flying, followed by the sensation of gravity, which then ends with pretty much no sensation at all. But back to the primary fact that I was _supposed _to have my wings bound to my spine with leather and titanium rings, now. It's not really _every day_ someone just pinches off leather and titanium while handcuffed to someone who had really threatening syringes and looks exactly like someone you know and love, right?

Then again, it's not every day you see mutant kids barely past puberty with wings zooming past a wide variety of tectonic plates carrying a talking dog and a laptop.

_It'll be just a matter of time_, I thought dourly to myself.

I'd just noticed the arm that wrapped itself around my neck about now, and it took me a few seconds to register Max II in my arms again. I vaguely remembered getting _really _observant while she was fighting, and didn't miss the shot one lucky, uncoordinated Flyboy landed on her shin, which actually got her to wince—not that I could differentiate from her wince and her sour expression all that easily. She was dragging her leg since then, and that's when I got the urge to throw myself in front of her and protect. Old habit, I guess, hard to break.

_But Max isn't here, the Flock isn't here_, I reminded myself, brows furrowing. I glanced at Max's clone.

"Argh, why do you have to look so like her..?"

"Oh, well, _sorry _for being a clone of your dearest. I couldn't _help_ myself, really," she answered bitterly, breaths hitching at every downstroke I take that drops us a few feet every time. "And fly properly, will you? Your death-grip's already enough to break a bone here, and I don't want to see my lunch again. Seriously."

I grunted. "Yeah, well, I take it that you're okay with me obliterating those binds of yours."

"_Mine?_" she said, genuinely aghast. "You think those are _mine_? I _hate_ those things."

"Well, that explains the fact that my nose isn't bleeding right now."

"You noticed?" she asked, sparing a sideward glance over her shoulder.

"My nose isn't spewing out blood, is it?"

"Do you _really _think I'd break your nose in this situation?" she snorted, raising an eyebrow and casting a wary eye over my shoulder.

"Yes."

"That was frank."

"You bet."

Out of the blue, I felt a sharp burst of pain on the side of my arm. Just like the probing sensation of having the skin of your forearm blasted by plasma lasers—and believe me, that does _not _feel good.

Right then, my balance went off. With addition to the nullification from the binds and a few of the slightly more sensitive bones getting fractured behind my back, there was now a sizeable amount of blood dripping from a deep gash caused by something you'd normally see in _Star Wars_.

I know some people might ask: is it possible to trip in midair? Oh, but believe me, IT IS.

So there, I staggered in the air, dropping at least five to six feet before reregistering a familiar face I was lugging along with me bridal style. There was a very distinct slash at her back, right below the neck, just a few millimeters off to pass as a huge paper cut, but deeper, and was dripping blood all over my arm. Max II couldn't fight back the wince this time, and it took long moments before she rearranged her features into a twisted grimace. She looked flustered at her show of weakness, more so the fact that she couldn't contain it immediately. My mind whirred, confused—_she's just like Max. My Max. Is this still her clone or the Max I know? _

I think it was most of the anesthetics talking, and maybe some of that tranquilizer injected in my back, but for a second there, and probably even more, I was really convinced that I had Max in my arms.

And that I was doing such a bang-up job of protecting her.

_Focus, Fang, focus, _I thought to myself, gritting my teeth. _Max's life is on the line. Clone or no, seeing her face will keep some sanity at bay. You __**need**__ sanity. _

I repeated the last sentence over and over again, reminding myself the core of being two percent bird and whatever the rest human: _stay sane_.

I tightened my hold on Max II, gripping her shoulders more firmly and bringing her closer. A few more blasts shot by, grazing the side of Max II's arm, firing past my elbow, and another at the side of my leg. I heard her gasp slightly, and her hand, overlapped atop her chest, curled around mine, holding it tight, as if to ebb the pain away.

"_I just want you to hold my hand."_

"_I am holding your hand."_

The sight of her hand squeezing mine snapped me back to reality—a reality without a drug-induced sense of self and selflessness. The wounds burned where they bled, and I winced absently, gritting my teeth to concentrate. God knows what those blasted whitecoats put in their rounds, but it sure wasn't the usual that's got _just _that extra kick in with the pain—now it was burning into my veins, so to speak.

"The hell are these..?" I asked, wincing again.

"Goddam _poison. Acid._ The worst kind, even," Max II groaned. "But they've updated, apparently. I'm supposed to be _used _to these things, dammit."

A pang of guilt shot through me, and maybe a bit of a lot of self-hate, like usual. I've already caused so much pain, and even if I'm totally fine with Max II getting pummeled, I wasn't entirely crazy about it, either—she _is _almost exactly like the real Max. And with drugs swimming around my nervous system, I couldn't really differentiate (not that you can—easily, at least).

Cold fingers suddenly stroked the side of my neck. I felt my head twitch, and my eyes dart back towards Max—Max _II_. She didn't meet my eyes—she was staring at my neck, at the place I assumed was where vampires sunk their teeth into your skin and sucked the living lights out of you. For a first, she looked troubled, really confused for the first time. It's as if my neck suddenly started mutating a new head or something.

"F-Fang…y-you…"

Okay, now I was going nuts. Max was actually _stammering_. I _am _used to reducing people into incoherent stammers, but not with _Max_. _This _Max especially, because she's got extra buttons I haven't tried pushing yet. And now she was poking at my neck almost absently, staring wide-eyed at something the human-avian raptor eyes couldn't possibly see—unless we suddenly had eyeball elasticity, which would account for: _really gross_.

"What is i—" before I could continue, another flurry of fires erupted from behind us, hitting me squarely on my back, somewhere right below my neck.

I thought it was some sort of bullet or dart, but it was more like sloppy goo you'd generally find on an alien spaceship containing contaminated nuclear warheads and all that crap. The feeling was somehow familiar, but a bit altered and slightly deadlier. Consciousness slipped out of me almost immediately, flickering into blurry images and sounds. The shackles at my wrist kept tugging downwards, scratching holes in my skin for all I care. All I saw was the sky, blurry and vague, unmistakably upside down—at least, I _think _it was upside down. My eyelids fluttered repeatedly—consciousness to unconsciousness, veneer to reality, Max II to Max.

Max…_Max. _

"Max!" I yelled, eyes popping wide. "Where are you?"

"Oh, I don't know, STILL CHAINED TO YOU, MAYBE?!"

Was it me, or was there a hint of relief in her voice?

"What happened?" I asked, and then mentally kicked myself for asking such a stupid question.

"You got hit, one of the worst places possible to boot, it tends to make your brain function less properly and make your mouth sprout out stupid questions."

I grunted, eyelids heavy.

"Hey, hey!" Max hollered. "Stay awake or you'll—"

"I'll…what?" I asked, struggling to keep a steady consciousness.

"Nothi—Fang WAKE UP!"

By then, everything went black, a blistering feeling swept through me from my back, and the cold dribble of blood was probably the only thing I could make out of reality. I saw just blinks of the sky, this time shrouded by a cloud of black metal.

The weight on my wrist was starting to annoy me. I think my hand is dangerously close to being sawed off at this rate. Those handcuffs were really heavy duty; sharp too, if you count what was supposed to lock the cuffs in place razors. I was also getting the impression that Max II was deliberately tugging on the shackles, I think with the objective of waking me up. It wasn't the best plan, but it really got me annoyed. I think she scraped off chunks of my skin by the feel of it. But the way things were going, I was pretty fine with going down with barely a fight—with the exclusion of Max II's efforts, of course—it's one less freak to deal with. Even though I was pretty sure _something _was gonna catch me, I welcomed the idea of complete and total rest openly. Wherever I was going, it sure wasn't _up_.

"_Fang, don't go anywhere."_

"_I won't. I'm here."_

"_Okay. I need you here. Don't leave me."_

"_I won't."_

"FANG!"

The sound of Max's voice snapped me back out of unconsciousness. It sounded just like that time…when I left them…left her. My mind went back to its usual hyped-up turmoil, gears whirring in my head like crazy. Before I knew it, I was conscious again, and that I could see the sky clearly, the sand swirling not so far below me, and the ominous mass of Flyboys soaring their clumsy butts towards us with teeth bared and talons on the ready. It took a few blinks and mental concentration to get my bearings straight, register the fact that there was probably going to be a sore in the morning when I wake up realizing that another huge gaping hole found its way to my back—heck, WAKE UP, in the least. It all took the few seconds vital to staying alive, but when I _did _get my focus set straight, there was no stopping me.

"Max?"

"Fang? _Fang! _Oh _thank god_, I thought you were _out_! Dammit, don't _scare _me like that!"

"Ma-ax?"

"Whaat?"

Since we were clearly doing a freefall handcuffed together on the fly from bloodthirsty aluminum, I found asking the most frequently asked question of the day yet again. Max II can't possibly argue with me _this _time.

"CAN I BREAK IT **NOW**?!"

**\\-bLudySplATonThuhFlo0r-/**

**-Max POV-**

I still don't get it.

I mean…a _bear_!

It's rare, and I mean _rare _to find me so dumbstruck like this. I was seriously driven into a small, solitary corner of confusion.

Why was it a bear? Why _wasn't _it a Flyboy? Why not a horde of Flyboys? Why was there a dart? Why was it a bear? WHERE IN THE HELL IS FANG? _BEAR!!_

I don't know how many stupid questions swam around my head in that single minute, but by the look of Angel's apparent headache, I assume it was more than she can handle.

Seriously, WHY A _BEAR_?

"Ma-a-x, you're making my head hurt," Angel whined, giving me this agonizing stare.

"Sorry, Ange, it's just…"

"Yeah, I know, A BEAR. We get it. There's a first time for everything, right?"

"I know, but…"

"Just stop thinking about it for a while, Max," Iggy suggested, patting the freshly-put bandage on Angel's forehead. "You've got more important things to worry about."

Oh yeah. Fang.

…

FANG.

Oh, why does it make me _so _angry at myself just to hear that word? It really gets the adrenaline running and the blood pressure rising, that's for sure. His name's become some taboo in the Flock recently. The confusion's really the dawning type that gets you on every possibly side. I mean, just a while ago, we nearly got mangled by a _grizzly bear_. If everything wasn't so friggin' messed up, we would've beaten the bear to a fur ball in _seconds_. Our guard was too far below our usual standards.

It nearly got us _killed_.

Comprehension dawned on me then. It could happen to anyone, I realize. Even non-mutant-humans. This was supposed to be something _normal_, so to speak. Flyboys just can't go around munching on every moving being their mechanical eyeballs spot unless there was a part of the said moving being that involved abnormality concerning animal cells. I can't just expect that every time we're attacked, it would be by Flyboys or recombinant life forms.

My guard was completely off.

"I found this abandoned camp on my way."

I shook my head. "What?"

"When you zoomed off to get to Ange and Gaz, I smelled smoke before I flew right through it," Iggy explained, packing the first-aid kit in one of our packs. "I did a short area sweep there, but all I could make off was a mess with the smoke swirling around the whole place. I was hurrying so I couldn't do much. But that's where I found the dart." His eyes darted in the direction where Gaz-dubbed Yogi was snoring, his gaze landing peculiarly on the mark left where the dart had been in.

I could barely follow. "So…?"

He rolled his eyes, staring at me as if I was some kid who just asked if a triangle has four sides. He sighed, running a hand through his disheveled hair. "_So, _we shoouuld…" He gestured for me to continue.

"Uh…check it out?" I asked, and that's when my brain registered a familiar scenario not too long ago by the river.

"There's probably a map in there."

Well, he should have said that earlier.

**\\-bLudySplATonThuhFlo0r-/**

**-Fang POV-**

To say that I moved _fast _was an understatement. It lacked the emphasis I was looking for.

Going supersonic never seemed so undermining when you've got a vocabulary ranging from _fast _to _really fast _for speed description. If I tried to calculate how much _'really'_s I would have said before making my point, I think I could have diminished all use of a more impacting adjective right there. And the use of a good enough dictionary.

For one, _fast_ couldn't have described what happened when the highly annoying restraints around my wrist snapped off like chocolate bars in mid flight.

Second, _fast _doesn't give justice to how I _flew_ after that.

Third…well…I don't think there's a third. I'm just on a roll. And maybe a few drugs. Bear with the side-effects.

All I know is that _fast_ could pretty much summarize Max II's response after the millionth time of my asking if I could break the stupid handcuffs reaping my wrist off.

It all happened in a matter of seconds, really. I overused redundancy and asked "can I break it now?" again. The next second, Max II threw a grimace in my direction whilst replying her "fine". In the _same_ second, my other hand, nothing but a blur, grazed over the chains, snapping them off their links almost instantly.

Apparently, my wings were makeshift parachutes when not flapping. The bend caught air and slowed the fall, so when the chains broke off, Max II was hurtling towards her sandy death faster than I could fold my wings.

Dumb luck could never have been any more idiotic when the mass of metal flew right at me, just when I was about to dive for Max. The current they were going at was faster than it looked when we were on the lead, and it took me by _storm_. Literally. I was tossed and turned in the black mass of steel werewolves relentlessly, their bared teeth grazing my limbs and face. The small white gaps they left blinked from black to blue, and with every pass, I saw Max II shrinking all too quickly into a small black dot. She was fumbling for something behind her back, and for a second there, I completely forgot she had _wings_.

"_You think those are MINE? I hate those things."_

Oh, wouldn't you know, her wings were strapped to her back too! I should've thought of that a hell of a long time ago, but I was too busy being so drunk with drugs that I didn't remember to pinch them off of her. It was probably killing her, being bound like that. I just had a short run-in with those things and already I despise them like I despise Erasers pretending to be dwarves in Disneyland (no originality or creativity, I tell you).

"_How did you __**fly **__like that?"_

"_I don't know…I sort of just did."_

Without warning, an image of Max snapping her wings open and zooming off into the distance flashed in my head. I remembered the first time she discovered her supersonic speed. I remembered the times she'd scare me to death suddenly disappearing like that just to "get away from it all". I remembered everything about the time since then. I saw it all in my head, just like before.

"_Why, Fang?"_

With a burst of adrenaline and frustration, I ripped through the mesh of Flyboys, going the opposite direction they were heading. A few dozen or so tumbled out of their cloud and fell downwards, and some were decimated by the force. Everything turned into an indistinguishable blur as I arched down and swooped underneath Max II, grabbing her and zooming off to the distance.

All in one second.

Everything was happening so fast. One second I was being salad-tossed by a Flyboy stampede, and the next I'm suddenly carrying Max II again, flying in a speed I couldn't recognize, eyes watering from the wind's battering. The skin on my face felt like they were beginning to rip off, my wounds stung where the air touched them, and Max II could only so much as shut her eyes tight and squeeze my neck, hair wild as it was pulled back by the current. Her mouth was open, as if she was saying something to me, but all I could hear was the deafening roar of the winds at my ears adding to the already pressurized features. She kept trying to speak, eyes still shut tight, and all I caught were anything but cohesive.

"_What the heck are you doing?"_

"_I'm helping you change your mind."_

"FANG! YOU'RE OVER THE SPEED LIHMIT!"

"Huh—wha?"

In one spiraling moment, everything stopped. The sky stopped spinning, the ground stopped swirling, and my mind stopped reeling. The skin being pulled off my face settled, and I thought briefly about whether or not I'd have wrinkles because of that. In my arms, Max II's eyes were still shut tight, her arms wrapped firmly around my neck, beads of sand and rock sprinkling her skin. Her watery eyes opened when she felt the pressure lessen, and almost immediately did they land on mine.

"Wha—what just—_happened?_" she questioned, shock-still.

"I have no idea," I answered, exhausted. "All I know is that we're fine. Though I can't say the same thing about your hair."

She snorted, running a conscious hand through her hair. "You—you _flew _at this…this _amazing _speed. Ah! I swear it toppled over four hundred."

"Four hundred?" That was double Max's.

She didn't reply, she was staring at my neck again. Something about it was really bothering her, and it was annoying not knowing what it was, especially since it was apparently _on me_. I opened my mouth to ask, but she spoke first.

"Fang…you…let's get down."

I blinked. "Huh? Uh, okay. Do you want me to remove those binds?"

She shook her head, looking away from me. "No. I'm fine."

I averted my eyes from her, blinking back the sky and the land, taking in whatever scenery was still recognizable.

"Thanks."

I dropped four feet right then. She said it with so much sincerity that I forgot to flap, in which she rolled her eyes at and sighed, looking away, some sort of depression crossing over her features. I couldn't take in much detail—my mind was in debate over whether or not she really said thanks. _To me_.

Two uncomfortable minutes ticked by before we reached stable ground, far from those Flyboys I seemed to have lost in my spur of the moment lightning speed. Max II practically collapsed on the sand, breathing deeply with every inhale. I panted silently, rubbing my wrist like you did in those cop movies.

"Hey," I said, putting a wary hand over the side of my neck, casting a cautious eye at her rising form. "What were you looking at here? You were sta—"

I couldn't continue. Right then, right there, my breaths were cut off. My roguish coughs and gurgles splattered the sand with crimson. My senses shut down, blurred, and I heard the vague sounds of helicopters and mechanical wolfmen. The air whipped around me, and all I could see was the blood on the sand under my crouch, over my hand covering my mouth, and against Max's jeans. My vision started escaping me again, and the last thing I saw was Max II's face, concern breaking through her features, and a look that I couldn't understand.

"_Fang, Fang, Fang. I love you. I love you sooo much."_

"_Oh jeez."_

Then everything turned black.

**\\-bLudySplATonThuhFlo0r-/**

**-Author's Note-**

_**PLEASE READ.**_

**So there you go. Hoped you liked it! Sorry if there was any confusing parts. Just an FYI, those italicized dialogues were little snippets of the past. You may or may not recognize lines from when Max was given Valium for surgery, when she found out her supersonic speed, when Fang tried to change her mind by kissing her, and a bunch of other stuff. You may also notice that his mind was really twisted, what with mistaking Max II for Max—which shouldn't really be so hard—and mixing up bits of his and Max's past with his and Max II's. The fic's a bit confusing that way, but I hope you guys understand XD.**

**Oh yeah, the thing Max II was staring at? Erm, you'll have to find out XD. I just can't give it away yet, but the clues are pretty helpful there (NECK – SUDDENLY UNCONSCIOUS – MAX II DEPRESSED) I think you can find out pretty easily XD. **

**Oh, and just so no one's confused: FANG LOST CONSCIOUSNESS AGAIN. At the last part XD. Well, **_**after**_** internally bleeding. XD XP**

**Anyways, R&R! Thanks for reading!**


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